I think about the kinds of gardens that Queen Elizabeth put up. She made gardens in the shape of an "E," for Elizabeth, just one more way in which she used symbolism to solidify her reign: appearing as the Virgin Queen, for example, or wearing a dress embroidered with eyes and ears to indicate that she knew all that was going on in her castle; she had spies.

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

Often poets fall into groups that exclude others, and don't pay attention to those who write in different ways. It seems so limited to me.

Language is as fragile as the little alpine plant.

I try to attach myself to things around me so that they don't slip away.

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.

I know that in some ways I operate from a kind of antiquated interest in imagery, while many contemporary poets are not so interested in imagery. I think part of it is my training, and just my visual sense of things.