Those of us who make up poems have agreed not to say what the pain is.

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

There's a quality we could call vertical attention, which is an attention upward toward ancestors, spiritual states, angels, gods.

Tragedies are about the depths that call up to certain men and insist that they descend.

Reclaiming the sacred in our lives naturally brings us close once more to the wellsprings of poetry.

Every noon as the clock hands arrive at twelve, I want to tie the two arms together, And walk out of the bank carrying time in bags.

I am proud only of those days that pass in undivided tenderness.