A life is not sufficiently elevated for poetry, unless, of course, the life has been made into an art.
Mark StrandWhen I walk I part the air and always the air moves in to fill the spaces where my body's been.
Mark StrandThese 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.
Mark Strand