From the reader's view, a poem is more demanding than prose.

We’re only here for a short while. And I think it’s such a lucky accident, having been born, that we’re almost obliged to pay attention.

These wrinkles are nothing These gray hairs are nothing, This stomach which sags with old food, these bruised and swollen ankles, my darkening brain, they are nothing. I am the same boy my mother used to kiss.

I feel that anything is possible in a poem.

The number of people writing poems is vast, and their reasons for doing so are many, that much can be surmised from the stacks of submissions.

When I walk I part the air and always the air moves in to fill the spaces where my body's been.

Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.