“Who is so fancy, esoterica saves the day?Who is the Yogi, Namaste?”

“Once, I took the penny whistle you gave me and discovered a spotby the roaring falls where I could play as loud as I wanted. I lay in the bifurcated trunkof a low-slung birch tree. The sun peeked t...”

“And no matter what closet we were thrown in, up what river we were sold for an embarrassment, or worse, traded for a bottle of gin--wed carry on in playful stitches, friendstil the endwhich came so...”

“If in poetry court she was calledto testify on matters whereI was condemned to imprisonment: parking my egoat a broken meter, line violations, forced rhyme,dealing stanzaics to children, shootingof...”

“what if there was an uncanny moment when all the birds were grounded from Cape Town to Juneau, and everywhere between--all feathers frozen in a universal stutter, so quick as to make a snail of lig...”

“Theres a pressure at all hours of the day only a poem can assuage.”

“Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that youve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you sa...”

“As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”

“I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there i...”

“The other day she asked me "Will you forget me?"I smiled and looked at the sky and asked her: "Can the sky ever forget his moon?”

“There is this pain of love. You experience it some moments. It begins like a strange gnawing in your heart. It then spreads slowly. Spreads to the whole body. You fall deeply into it. This feeling.”

“if I finally do catch you and put my mouth to yours you will taste that summer.”

“Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.No soldier's paid to kick against His powers.We laughed, knowing that better men would come,And greater wars: whe...”

“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”

“It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.”