From scarlet to powdered gold, to blazing yellow, to the rare ashen emerald, to the orange and black velvet of your shimmering corselet, out to the tip that like an amber thorn begins you, small, superlative being, you are a miracle, and you blaze

Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.

And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.

Love is not about property, diamonds and gifts. It is about sharing your very self with the world around you.

Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.

I want to see thirst In the syllables, Tough fire In the sound; Feel through the dark For the scream.

If you no longer live, if you my beloved, my love, if you have died, all the leaves will fall in my breast, it will rain in my soul night and day, the snow will burn my heart, I shall walk with frost and fire and death and snow, my feet will want to walk to where you are sleeping, but I shall live