Curled up in bed, I’m young in the old way.

The ghosts swarm. They speak as one person. Each has left something undone.

Poetry wants to make things mean more than they mean, says someone, as if we knew how much things meant, and in what unit of measure.

Metaphor is ritual sacrifice. It kills the look-alike. No, metaphor is homeopathy.

But here I hold your dream in my poem.

We are all full of discourses that we only half understand and half mean.

The crowd is made of little gods, and there is still no heaven.

The fear that all this will end. The fear that it won't.

We sleep together in the dark but confuse light with love.

clarity need not be equivalent to / readability. How readable is the world?

Carried by light, images remain while sensation is so evanescent as to be always beyond belief.

Aberystwyth (n.)A nostalgic yearning which is in itself more pleasant than the thing being yearned for.

I cannot heave my heart into my mouth. I love your majesty according to my bond

Ugh!' snarled the Wolf, as he limped through the brushwood with his tail between his legs, 'this is perfectly monstrous weather. Why doesn't the Government look to it?

When husbands and fathers leave, their wives and daughters tend to value themselves less as a result.

What you wouldn't have suspected lives & trembles in the air. Those treasures of the day you keep just out of reach. These come & go in truckloads but no one stops to see them.

I love this simple maiden, She grows upon me more and more, And--ask the moon who 't was that kissed, Last night upon the shore!

People find a sense of being, a sense of worth and substance being associated with land. Association with final roots gives us not only a history but proclaims us heirs to a future.

If, like Jacob, you trust God in little things, He may answer you by great things.

Man is remembered by his deeds.

I've played lots of law enforcement agents, and I do have friends that are in the bureau, in the DEA, and who are detectives and captains.