The tragedy with velocity as the answer to complexity is that, after awhile, you cannot see or comprehend anything that is not traveling at the same speed you are. And you actually start to feel disturbed by people who have a sense of restfulness to their existence.

I want to know if you are willing to live, day by day, with the consequence of love and the bitter unwanted passion of your sure defeat. I have heard, in that fierce embrace, even the gods speak of God.

The moment you’ve uttered the exact dimensionality of your exile, you’re already turning towards home.

To be human is to become visible while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others.

Poetry is the art of overhearing ourselves say things from which it is impossible to retreat.

The frail, vulnerable sounds of which we are capable seem to be essential to a later ability to roar like a lion without scaring everyone to death.

Poetry for me has been a long pilgrimage, a journey and a growing relationship with the unknown.