Anybody who writes a book is an optimist. First of all, they think they're going to finish it. Second, they think somebody's going to publish it. Third, they think somebody's going to read it. Fourth, they think somebody's going to like it. How optimistic is that?

The genesis of a poem for me is usually a cluster of words. The only good metaphor I can think of is a scientific one: dipping a thread into a supersaturated solution to induce crystal formation. I don't think I solve problems in my poetry; I think I uncover the problems.

Our heaven is their hell, said God. I like a balanced universe.

I never say I'm an "ist" of any kind unless I know how the other person is defining it.

When you're unhinged, things make their way out of you that should be kept inside, and other things get in that ought to be shut out. The locks lose their powers. The guards go to sleep. The passwords fail.

Nothing changes instantaneously: in a gradually heating bathtub you'd be boiled to death before you knew it.

Ignoring isn’t the same as ignorance, you have to work at it.