They [daisies] are my favorite flower. There is something innocent and vulnerable about them as if they thanked you for admiring them.

Love? Be it man. Be it woman. It must be a wave you want to glide in on, give your body to it, give your laugh to it, give, when the gravelly sand takes you, your tears to the land. To love another is something like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall into its arms because your belief undoes your disbelief.

Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.

For I could not read or speak and on the long nights I could not turn the moon off or count the lights of cars across the ceiling.

Images are the heart of poetry ... You're not a poet without imagery.

Put your mouthful of words away and come with me to watch the lilies open in such a field, growing there like yachts, slowly steering their petals without nurses or clocks.

It would be pleasant to be drunk.