Who knows what will happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expecting to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention.

The god of dirt came up to me many times and said so many wise and delectable things, I lay on the grass listening to his dog voice, frog voice; now, he said, and now, and never once mentioned forever from, One or Two Things

I don't ask for the sights in front of me to change, only the depth of my seeing.

I have a little dog who likes to nap with me. He climbs on my body and puts his face in my neck. He is sweeter than soap. He is more wonderful than a diamond necklace, which can't even bark.

Do you love this world? Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Poetry isn't a profession, it's a way of life. It's an empty basket; you put your life into it and make something out of that.