You want to cry aloud for your mistakes. But to tell the truth the world doesn't need any more of that sound.

My work is the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird - equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.

People want poetry. They need poetry. They get it. They don't want fancy work.

You are young. So you know everything. You leap into the boat and begin rowing. But, listen to me. Without fanfare, without embarrassment, without doubt,I talk directly to your soul. Listen to me.

I worked probably 25 years by myself, just writing and working, not trying to publish much, not giving readings.

maybe death isn't darkness, after all, but so much light wrapping itself around us--

Writing a poem ... is a kind of possible love affair between something like the heart (that courageous but also shy factory of emotion) and the learned skills of the conscious mind.