Everybody has to have their little tooth of power. Everybody wants to be able to bite.

Do you cherish your humble and silky life?

And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money, I don't even want to come in out of the rain.

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

I very much wished not to be noticed, and to be left alone, and I sort of succeeded.

Maybe the world, without us, is the real poem.

Tom Dancer’s gift of a whitebark pine cone You never know What opportunity Is going to travel to you, Or through you. Once a friend gave me A small pine cone- One of a few He found in the scat Of a grizzly In Utah maybe, Or Wyoming. I took it home And did what I supposed He was sure I would do- I ate it, Thinking How it had traveled Through that rough And holy body. It was crisp and sweet. It was almost a prayer Without words. My gratitude, Tom Dancer, For this gift of the world I adore so much And want to belong to. And thank you too, great bear