Listen--are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?
Wild sings the bird of the heart in the forests of our lives.
Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.
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.
What can we do about God, who makes and then breaks every god-forsaken, beautiful day?
I went to India and was quite taken with it. There's a feeling there that things are holy first and useful second. And in America, we have it backwards.