I must always forget how one word is able to pick out another, to manner another, until I have got something I might have said... but did not.

Rejoice with the day lily for it is born for a day to live by the mailbox and glorify the roadside

Poems aren't postcards to send home.

Watch out for intellect, because it knows so much it knows nothing and leaves you hanging upside down, mouthing knowledge as your heart falls out of your mouth.

I think of myself as writing for one person, that one perfect reader who understands and loves.

God has a brown voice, as soft and full as beer.

sorrow is easier than guilt.