I felt a longing to compose a radical or root poem that would speak to what has its back turned to me.

Two birds fly past. They are needed somewhere.

Adolescents are in just as much trouble in Native America as they are in the white community.

Every part of our personality that we do not love will become hostile to us.

There are very few adults in our culture able to imagine any genuine life coming from the vertical plane - tradition, religion, or devotion.

One could say the higher the spirit goes, the more deeply the soul sinks down into the waters of melancholy and tragedy. Drowning in that water is as sweet as rising.

As I've gotten older, I find I am able to be nourished more by sorrow and to distinguish it from depression.