You can’t beat somebody with nobody.

There are no barriers to poetry or prophecy; by their nature they are barrier-breakers, bursts of perceptions, lines into infinity. If the poet lies about his vision he lies about himself and in himself; this...

I got beat up up in Texas because my bootlaces were the wrong color.

It was a vision of the one thing that we both hoped someday would be…the warmth of our bodies next to each other’s, reflected in sunset of our secret place… We longed for it to...

Driving down deserted early morning roads. Round and round. Round downtown. Through naked streets. Lips pursed on two litre bottles of beer, but pursuing the lips of freedom’s night. Swapping cars. Winding up at karaoke...

If you do something that you’re proud of, that someone else understands, that is a thing of beauty that wasn’t there before – you can’t beat that.

I’ll insist my competitor is the greatest, so that when I beat him, I won’t be calling myself the greatest—I’ll be proving it through my actions.

Euphemisms chosen by fear are a covenant with hypocrisy and will immediately destroy the poem and eventually destroy the poet.

…Cody is furiously explaining to his little son Tim ‘Never let the right hand know what your left hand is doing’…Page 100.

My thoughts of you are a rainbow in splashing ocean waves…appearing…disappearing in sacred depths of skies the grasps of mine reach to the highest… Will you, ah, long for kissing me tonight? so I could...

When I pass a flowering zucchini plant in a garden, my heart skips a beat.

…this refinement and delicacy were what Cale adored; but Cale had been beaten into shape, hammered in dreadful fires of fear and pain. How could she be with him for long? A secret part of...

Excellence is to keep beating your own standards every day. If you don’t have a standard for yourself, you have no records to beat; and if you don’t have any record to beat, you can’t...

Bedtime is daytime, and we come into bloom after midnight.

All I wanted and all Neal wanted and all anybody wanted was some kind of penetration into the heart of things where, like in a womb, we could curl up and sleep the ecstatic sleep...

A true friend doesn’t have guts; they beat you up and later plead with you to beat them back.