For me, life offers so many complexly appealing moments that two beautiful objects may be equally beautiful for different reasons and at different times. How can one choose?

A poem records emotions and moods that lie beyond normal language, that can only be patched together and hinted at metaphorically.

I'm an Earth ecstatic, and my creed is simple: All life is sacred, life loves life, and we are capable of improving our behavior toward one another. As basic as that is, for me it's also tonic and deeply spiritual, glorifying the smallest life-form and embracing the most distant stars.

We think of it as a sort of traffic accident of the heart. It is an emotion that scares us more than cruelty, more than violence, more than hatred. We allow ourselves to be foiled by the vagueness of the word. After all, love requires the utmost vulnerability. We equip someone with freshly sharpened knives; strip naked; then invite him to stand close. What could be scarier?

What an odd, ruminating, noisy, self-interrupting conversation we conduct with ourselves from birth to death.

The visual image is a kind of tripwire for the emotions.

We live on the leash of our senses. There is no way in which to understand the world without first detecting it through the radar-net of our senses.