Today is today, and yesterday is gone. There is no doubt.

For me writing is like breathing. I could not live without breathing and I could not live without writing.

I have never thought of my life as divided between poetry and politics.

We open the halves of a miracle, and a clotting of acids brims into the starry divisions: creation's original juices, irreducible, changeless, alive: so the freshness lives on

I love you only because it's you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

With which stars do they go on speaking,the rivers that never reach the sea?

And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.