Poetry A Riprap On The Slick Rock

Wildness Is Not Just The "preservation Of The World," It Is The World

My Grandmother Standing Wordless Fifteen Minutes Between Rows Of Loganberries, Clippers Poised In Her Hand.

The Mercy Of The West Has Been Social Revolution; The Mercy Of The East Has Been Individual Insight Into The Basic Self/void.

Why Should The Peculiarities Of Human Consciousness Be The Narrow Standard By Which Other Creatures Are Judged?

I Try To Hold Both History And Wilderness In Mind, That My Poems May The True Measure Of Things And Stand Against The Unbalance And Ignorance Of Our Times.