You know being born is important to you. You know nothing else was ever so important to you.

Where was I going? I puzzled and wondered about it til I actually enjoyed the puzzlement and wondering.

Yesterday is done. Tomorrow never comes. Today is here. If you don't know what to do, sit still and listen. You may hear something. Nobody knows.

Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.

Hope is an echo, hope ties itself yonder, yonder.

It was here we turned the coffee cups upside down. And your eyes and the moon swept the valley.

So I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them: Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.