…balancing the wish to be lost with the need to be found.

…balancing the wish to be lost with the need to be found.

A sentence starts out like a lone traveler heading into a blizzard at midnight, tilting into the wind, one arm shielding his face, the tails of his thin coat flapping behind him.

When you get a poem [in a public place], it happens to you so suddenly that you don't have time to deploy your anti-poetry deflector shields that were installed in high school.

Poetry is like standing on the edge of a lake on a moonlit night and the light of the moon is always pointing straight at you.

So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart.

Write the poem only you can write.