Everybody Has To Have Their Little Tooth

I Want To Believe I Am Looking Into The White Fire Of A Great Mystery.

Writing A Poem ... Is A Kind Of Possible Love Affair Between Something Like The Heart (that Courageous But Also Shy Factory Of Emotion) And The Learned Skills Of The Conscious Mind.

The Poem In Which The Reader Does Not Feel Himself Or Herself A Participant Is A Lecture, Listened To From An Uncomfortable Chair, In A Stuffy Room, Inside A Building.

When Will You Have A Little Pity For Every Soft Thing That Walks Through The World, Yourself Included.

Every Day I Walk Out Into The World / To Be Dazzled, Then To Be Reflective.