why are we so monumentally slow?

our limbs which had already traveled far beyond her world, carrying the click of distances in the smooth, untroubled soles of their shoes.

I want to be someone making music/with my coming.

The thousands small birds of January in their smooth soaring cloud finding the trees.

Being alive is a common road. It's what we notice makes us different.

I support all people on earth who have bodies like and unlike my body.

During the Gulf War, I remember two little third grade girls saying to me - after I read them some poems by writers in Iraq - 'You know, we never thought about there being children in Iraq before.' And I thought, 'Well those poems did their job, because now they'll think about everything a little bit differently.'