In the pit of red You hid from the bone-clinic whiteness But the jewel you lost was blue.

Show him every dawn & read to him endlessly.

Haven’t you heard of the music of the spheres?” asked the dragon. “It’s the music that space makes to itself. All the spirits inside all the stars are singing. I’m a star spirit. I sing too. The music of the spheres is what makes space so peaceful.

The Bush administration doesn't particularly like public participation. It makes them look bad.

Where white is black and black is white, I won.

As Popa penetrates deeper into his life, with book after book, it begins to look like a Universe passing through a Universe. It is one of the most exciting things in modern poetry, to watch this journey being made.

The wolf is living for the earth.