I believe that poets have to be inside their poems somewhere, or the poem won't work.

I've always had a theory that some of us are born with nerve endings longer than our bodies

My generation is now the door to memory. That is why I am remembering.

If you do not answer the noise and urgency of your gifts, they will turn on you. Or drag you down with their immense sadness at being abandoned.

A story matrix connects all of us. There are rules, processes, and circles of responsibility in this world. And the story begins exactly where it is supposed to begin. We cannot skip any part.

Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their families, their histories too. Talk to them, listen to them. They are alive poems.

There is no separation. We are all from the same place. As long as there is respect and acknowledgement of connections, things continue working. When that stops we all die.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

Remember that you are all people and that all people are you.

But come here, Fear. / I am alive! / And you are so afraid / of dying.

There is no poetry where there are no mistakes.

I should like to know what sacrifices they make. I think it's the children who make the sacrifices. When I want to eat gooseberries and am not allowed to, the sacrifice is _mine_ not _Mother's_.

Easter is very important to me, it's a second chance.

Act averse to nasty language and partial to fruity tea.

I just like testing myself. I just have that thing in me. Whatever it is that people tell me I can't do, I've gotta try it.

I'm LEP. A captain. No rent-a-cop gnome is going to stand in the way of my orders.

It's a war out there and either they're going to hurt you or you're going to hurt them. I just go out there and play with my heart.

... my whole existence is governed by abstract ideas.... the ideal must be preserved regardless of fact.

Any little issue - Miss Universe, or whatever it may be - [Donald Trump] is completely unpredictable, he'll go off into outer space.

Where does a black soul go to rest?

Do not blame any supernatural being, neither be hopeless and despondent, nor think we are in a place from which we can never escape unless someone comes and lends us a helping hand.