Nothing we do has the quickness, the sureness, the deep intelligence living at peace would have.

There's in my mind a... turbulent moon-ridden girl or old woman, or both, dressed in opals and rags, feathers and torn taffeta, who knows strange songs but she is not kind.

The world is not with us enough. O taste and see.

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

I believe every space and comma is a living part of the poem and has its function, just as every muscle and pore of the body has its function. And the way the lines are broken is a functioning part essential to the life of the poem.

Wear scarlet! Tear the green lemons off the tree! I don't want to forget who I am, what has burned in me, and hang limp and clean, an empty dress -

Breathe the sweetness that hovers in August.