Poetry is the harnessing of the paradox of earth cradling life and then entombing it.
I take you and pile high the memories. Death will break her claws on some I keep.
One of the greatest necessities in America is to discover creative solitude.
The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
I have often wondered what it is an old building can do to you when you happen to know a little about things that went on long ago in that building.
Poetry is a sequence of dots and dashes, spelling depths, crypts, cross-lights, and moon wisps.