A reading is a kind of communion. The poet articulates the semi-known for the tribe.

Grandfather Space. The Mind is his Wife

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

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.

My Grandmother standing wordless fifteen minutes Between rows of loganberries, clippers poised in her hand.

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

But if you do know what is taught by plants and weather, you are in on the gossip and can feel truly at home. The sum of a field's forces [become] what we call very loosely the 'spirit of the place.' To know the spirit of a place is to realize that you are a part of a part and that the whole is made or parts, each of which in a whole. You start with the part you are whole in.