Today, from the bridge, the East River is sparkling. The money is swirling around the tall buildings like tides or like tithes, And I wonder, does anyone swim in this river, I wonder, does anyone pray?

I do not play the instrument In longing but in quest Not to be undertaken Not to be lost In a forest of bliss.

I do think most poets are in denial about what the real taboos in writing are--the real boundaries.

Poetry is God's work.

When I moved to New York, the reputation just followed me, and I am regularly invited to play in home games, by writers in particular, though finance folk also invite me on occasion.

The sum of the parts equals less than the whole. Or the howl. Or the how. Or the hole.

I'm more interested in the writing than in the content per se (good writing can be about wallpaper and I'll devour it).