I have been cut in two.
God owns heaven but He craves the earth.
The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up.
Talk to me about sadness. I talk about it too much in my own head but I never mind others talking about it either; I occasionally feel like I tremendously need others to talk about it as well.
Meanwhile in my head, I’m undergoing open-heart surgery.
Those moments before a poem comes, when the heightened awareness comes over you, and you realize a poem is buried there somewhere, you prepare yourself. I run around, you know, kind of skipping around the house, marvelous elation. It’s as though I could fly.