If self is a location, so is love: Bearings taken, markings, cardinal points, Options, obstinacies, dug heels, and distance, Here and there and now and then, a stance.

The completely solitary self: that's where poetry comes from, and it gets isolated by crisis, and those crises are often very intimate also.

If you have the words, there's always a chance that you'll find the way.

Anyone with gumption and a sharp mind will take the measure of two things: what's said and what's done.

Publication is rather like pushing the boat out; then the boat/book turns into a melting ice floe and you have to conjure a second boat which again turns into a melting floe under your feet. All the stepping stones that you conjure disappear under the water behind you.

The way we are living, timorous or bold, will have been our life.

Poetry is language in orbit.