There are people who want to be everywhere at once, and they get nowhere

Nothing happens... but first a dream.

And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers. Go running back to dust and mist.

Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.

There are men and women so lonely they believe God, too, is lonely.

Rest is not a word of free people. Rest is a monarchical word.

Poetry is a projection across silence of cadences arranged to break that silence with definite intentions of echoes, syllables, wave lengths.