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I have hands full of this radiance. It flows through my fingers. It doesn't diminish.
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To write incorporeal poems, almost without words. To approximate the impossible, where art disappears and the Word becomes.
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Poetry is a presentiment of the truth.
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We create eternity out of crumbs of time.
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I write in order to comprehend, not to express myself.
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I don’t write poetry when I wish, I write when I can’t, when my larynx is flooded and my throat is shut.
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Where your pain is, there your heart lies also.
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The immense light. A state of inner emergency and waiting...This luminosity does not negate reason or any rational sense. It simply exists. A kind of poetic sensibility open to the world. To everything--grand and small.