One breath taken completely; one poem, fully written, fully read – in such a moment, anything can happen.
as some strings, untouched,sound when no one is speaking.So it was when love slipped inside us.
Poetry’s work is the clarification and magnification of being.
One way poetry connects is across time. . . . Some echo of a writer’s physical experience comes into us when we read her poem.
The heart’s actionsare neither the sentence nor its reprieve. Salt hay and thistles, above the cold granite. One bird singing back to another because it can’t not.
To plunge one thing into the shape or nature of another is a fundamental gesture of creative insight, part of how we make for ourselves a world more expansive, deft, fertile, and startling in richness.
Perimeter is not meaning, but it changes meaning,/as wit increases distance, and compassion erodes it.
In a room with many windowssome thoughts slide past uncatchable, ghostly.
Wrong solitude vinegars the soul, right solitude oils it.
The heat of autumn is different from the heat of summer. One ripens apples, the other turns them to c