Marvelous Truth, confront us at every turn, in every guise.

Writing poetry is a process of discovery...you can smell the poem before you see it....Like some animal.

Both art and faith are dependent on imagination; both are ventures into the unknown.

The fire in leaf and grass so green it seems each summer the last summer.

Insofar as poetry has a social function it is to awaken sleepers by other means than shock.

I'll dig in into my days, having come here to live, not to visit. Grey is the price of neighboring with eagles, of knowing a mountain's vast presence, seen or unseen.

In the dark I rest, unready for the light which dawns day after day, eager to be shared. Black silk, shelter me. I need more of the night before I open eyes and heart to illumination. I must still grow in the dark like a root not ready, not ready at all.