Don't bite till you know if it's bread or stone.

I am teaching... This year it's kind of like having a love affair with a rhinoceros.

Images are probably the most important part of the poem. First of all you want to tell a story, but images are what are going to shore it up and get to the heart of the matter.

I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.

Maybe I am becoming a hermit, opening the door for only a few special animals? Maybe my skull is too crowded and it has no opening through which to feed it soup?

I wonder if the artist ever lives his life--he is so busy recreating it.

Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself, Counting this row and that row of moccasins Waiting on the silent shelf.