All that we did was human, stupid, easily forgiven, Not quite right.

Today we are aware as never before of the plurality of human life-styles and possibilities, while at the same time being tied, like in an old silent movie, to a runaway locomotive rushing headlong toward a very singular catastrophe

Will be but corpses dressed in frocks, who cannot speak to birds or rocks.

Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.

I try to hold both history and wilderness in mind, that my poems may the true measure of things and stand against the unbalance and ignorance of our times.

Having a place means that you know what a place means...what it means in a storied sense of myth, character and presence but also in an ecological sense...Integrating native consciousness with mythic consciousness

Range after range of mountains. Year after year after year. I am still in love.