Widow. The word consumes itself.

It's the living, the eating, the sleeping that everyone needs. Ideas don't matter so much after all. My three best friends are Catholic. I can't see their beliefs, but I can see the things they love to do on earth. When you come right down to it, I do believe in the freedom of the individual.

I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God, but the sky is empty, and Orion walks by and doesn't speak.

I'm about fifty years behind as far as my preferences go and I must say that the poets who excite me most are the Americans. There are very few contemporary English poets that I admire.

I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together.

It's a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It's much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.

Bright beads of red are rising through the ink, Hearts-blood bubbles smearing out into the black stream