A number of poems don't work alone. They need to fit together to work.

I'm always somehow drawn to that sense of how fragile things are and how a garden means so differently depending upon whose language you happen to be in or whose century you happen to be in.

Gardens do offer a temporal tableau and certainly mean differently in different eras and indeed geographies (think of the formal gardens in France).

I can't move my body slowly. I can't move the line slowly. So I end up with way too much, often opaque to me later.

I prefer always to think that I am creating a book, not a series of stand-alone poems.

I think those of us who use language are always trying for this, trying to keep everything from floating away by trying to write about it despite failure.

Each of us is present, but partially.