Bedeviled, human, your plight, in waking, is to choose from the words that even now sleep on your tongue, and to know that tangled among them and terribly new is the sentence that could change your life.

A traitor commits his crime but once. The rest/is retribution.

Each of us suffers with envy/for the forgiven.

Poetry is telling something to someone.

Without devotion any life becomes a stranger's story...told for the body to forget what it once loved.

I am living. I remember you.

We tell each other stories to help each other live. That’s why I read poetry. I read poetry to stay alive. That’s why I went to poetry in the first place, that’s why I stay with it, that’s why I’ll never leave it.