Dance, Live, Sing, Cry, Love, Travel and Love again, until the day you have to stop

You can tell it’s a poem because it’s swimming in a little gel pack of white space. That shows it’s a poem.

One impulse from a vernal wood May teach you more of man, Of moral evil and of good, Than all the sages can.

The first fact of the world is that it repeats itself. I had been taught to believe that the freshness of children lay in their capacity for wonder at the vividness and strangeness of the...

The mystic sees God in everything; the scientist, atoms; the poet, poetry.

EphemeraYour eyes that once were never weary of mine Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids, Because our love is waning.”And then she: “Although our love is waning, let us stand By the lone border...

A tree forms itself in answerto its place and the light.Explain it how you will, the onlything explainable will beyour explanation.” Sabbaths 1999 IV

I place solitude in a frame on my desk and call it, the one I love.

They miss the whisper that runsany day in your mind,”Who are you really, wanderer?”–and the answer you have to giveno matter how dark and coldthe world around you is:”Maybe I’m a king.

Bright StarBright star, would I were steadfast as thou art— Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike...

My heart leaps up when I beholdA rainbow in the sky:So was it when my life began;So is it now I am a man;

O I never thought that joys would run away from boys,Or that boys would change their minds and forsake such summer joys;But alack I never dreamed that the world had other toys

The difference between superlative pie and a wish for cake is crust. Understand that pie is a generous but self-centered substance. It likes attention, not affection. Do not hug your crust. Do not rub its...

Poetry is a sort of truancy, a dream within the dream of life, a wild flower planted among our wheat.

You claim that the evidentiary miracle is present and available, namely, the Koran. You say: ‘Whoever denies it, let him produce a similar one.’ Indeed, we shall produce a thousand similar, from the works of...

Poetry is a connection to a change within you.

Which the Chicken and Which the Egg?He drinks because she scolds, he thinks;She thinks she scolds because he drinks;And nether will admit what’s true,That he’s a sot and she’s a shrew.

Between the poles of the conscious and the unconscious, there has the mind made a swing:Thereon hang all beings and all worlds, and that swing never ceases its sway. (pg. 16)

This fire that we call Loving is too strong for human minds. But just right for human souls.

My pond life with hydra is over; now I’m into the ocean world of poetry to dive deeper..

[Y]ou, one day, will knock lips with Turkish-coffee-clad veils whose beds our kin must tuck in misty-eyed.

And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

In knowing you I, discovered my self.

If our two loves be one, or, thou and I Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.

I came in haste with cursing breath,And heart of hardest steel;But when I saw thee cold in death,I felt as man should feel.For when I look upon that face,That cold, unheeding, frigid brown,Where neither rage...

Every day the world subtracts from itself and nothingis immune.

Our friends through cables and computer screens are as real as the light and sound waves we alter through thought.

A poem is a place where the conditions of beyondness and withinness are made palpable, where to imagine is to feel what it is like to be. It allows us to have the life we...

Friend who has fired the kingfishers and flamed the dragonflies – they catch your light however they move and beam it out of their eyes.

Sleeping AtlantisSilent cool watersdancing upon her skin ~silent cool waterushering dreams within…

Shut lips, sleeping faces,Every stopped machine,The dumb and littered placesWhere crowds have been:.All silences rejoice,Weep (loudly or low),Speak-but with the voiceOf whom, I do not know.

Five minutes are enough to dream a whole life, that is how relative time is.

I will not stop singingthe Muses who set me dancing.

I want to think again of dangerous and noble things. I want to be light and frolicsome. I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing, as though I had wings.

When you write about what you dream, you become a writer.When you dream about what you write, you become haunted by a curse.

The resurrection of the morning.The mystery of the night.The hummingbird’s wings.The excitement of thunder.The rainbow in the waterfall.Wild mustard, that rough blaze of the fields.

. . . Orpheus struck dumb with hindsight.

Belief In Self””If you quit while pursuing your dreams, you will never know how close you’ve come to success. It might have been hidden behind that next door you decided not to open, since the...

The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!The nose is holy! The tongue and cock and handand asshole holy!Everything is holy! everybody’s holy! everywhere isholy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman’s anangel!

In the flush of love’s lightwe dare be braveAnd suddenly we seethat love costs all we areand will ever be.Yet it is only lovewhich sets us free.

With heart at rest I climbed the citadel’sSteep height, and saw the city as from a tower,Hospital, brothel, prison, and such hells,Where evil comes up softly like a flower.Thou knowest, O Satan, patron of my...

It is not what a poem says with its mouth, it’s what a poem does with its eyes.

We are metered only by our own machines,while the book is a clock that forgets her machanics.

There’s a story here.A catastrophic silence where our thoughts and feelings collide …Where your sweetness overrides my senses and our bodies move to the same tune.The same song.The same melody.The same stroke.The same rhythm.It’s our...

Listen within to find shining poetry and hear extraordinary music. You are a work of art.

Wherever the hope of glory lives, hopelessness passes away.

when I am feelinglowall i have to do iswatch my catsand mycouragereturns

One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.

darkness falls upon Humanityand faces become terriblethingsthat wanted more than therewas.all our days are marked withunexpectedaffronts – somedisastrous, othersless sobut the process iswearing andcontinuous.attrition rules.most givewayleavingempty spaceswhere people shouldbe.and nowas we ready to self-destructthere is...

Far away, our dreams have nothing to do with what we do. The wind carries the night, and passes on, aimless.