The mind is an enchanting thing.
Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.
the sea is a collector, quick to return a rapacious look.
I never 'plan' a stanza. Words cluster like chromosomes, determining the procedure.
Beauty is everlasting And dust is for a time.
The sweet air coming into your house on a fine day, from water etched with waves as formal as the scales on a fish.