I feel there is an angel in me' she'd say'whom I amconstantly shocking

Cheap little rhymesA cheap little tuneAre sometimes as dangerousAs a sliver of the moon.

Only the poet truly understands what is written between the pregnant pauses they create.

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.

I am stuffing your mouth with yourpromises and watching you vomit them out upon my face.

Poetry is nothing if it exists only in books. One has to find it in one's own life.

Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?

We wrote our names in the sandYou crossed mine out: I can't getback to the way I was.

...and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?

You are the poemthat sticks in my throatteaching me to whisperwith the voice of my heart.

We say God and the imagination are one . . .How high that highest candle lights the dark.

Modern poetry, for me, began not in English at all but in Spanish, in the poems of Lorca.

Whatever the imagination seizes as Beauty must be truth -whether it existed before or not

Some who grow dull religious straight commenceAnd gain in morals what they lose in sense.

I am republicI am maoistI am activistand I am thisand I am thatbut why?Why can't; I be