From what we cannot hold the stars are made.

Of course there is nothing the matter with the stars It is my emptiness among them While they drift farther away in the invisible morning

I say to my breath once again, little breath come from in front of me, go away behind me, row me quietly now, as far as you can, for I am an abyss that I am trying to cross.

To succeed [,] consider what is as though it were past, deem yourself inevitable and take credit for it. If you no longer believe, enlarge the temple.

come back believer in shade believer in silence and elegance believer in ferns believer in patience believer in the rain

I think there's a kind of desperate hope built into poetry that one really wants, hopelessly, to save the world. One is trying to say everything that can be said for the things that one loves while there's still time.

Laughter was the shape the darkness took around the first appearance of the light.