In Every House Of Marriage There's Room

In My Darkest Night, When The Moon Was Covered And I Roamed Through Wreckage, A Nimbus-clouded Voice Directed Me: "live In The Layers, Not On The Litter." Though I Lack The Art To Decipher It, No Doubt The Next Chapter In My Book Of Transformations Is Already Written. I Am Not Done With My Changes.

We Have All Been Expelled From The Garden, But The Ones Who Suffer Most In Exile Are Those Who Are Still Permitted To Dream Of Perfection.

I Want To Write Poems That Are Natural, Luminous, Deep, Spare. I Dream Of An Art So Transparent That You Can Look Through And See The World.

Poetry Today Is Easier To Write But Harder To Remember.

A Poem Has Secrets That The Poet Knows Nothing Of.