In life, the number of beginnings is exactly equal to the number of endings ... In poetry, the number of beginnings so far exceeds the number of endings that we cannot even conceive of it.

If you have any idea for a poem, an exact grid of intent, you are on the wrong path, a dead-end alley, at the top of a cliff you haven't even climbed. This is a lesson that can only be learned by trial and error.

I'm lucky enough to occasionally be able to do something I love - write poems - and unlucky enough that what I love confuses and overwhelms me.

A poem is a neutrino - mainly nothing - it has no mass and can pass through the earth undetected.

the wasting of time is the most personal, most private, most intimate form of conversation with oneself, as well as with another.

In the end I would rather wonder than know

In our marginal existence, what else is there but this voice within us, this great weirdness we are always leaning forward to listen to?