Whatever truth we feel compelled to withhold, no matter how unthinkable it is to imagine ourselves telling it, not to is a way of spiritually holding our breath. You can only do it for so long.

I looked a hundred times and all I saw was dust. The sun broke through and flecks of gold filled the air.

We work so hard to get somewhere, to realize a dream, to arrive at some destination, that we often forget that though some satisfaction may be waiting at the end of our endurance and effort, there is great and irreplaceable aliveness in the steps along the way.

The life of expression is the tuning fork by which we find our way to the sacred.

To love by admitting our connection to everything is how we stay well.

The real challenge is to remember to see clearly when everything's flying around us and we're wrapped up in our [emotional] wounds and traumas.

I started out wanting to write great poems, then wanting to discover true poems. Now, I want to be the poem.