I want to tie one thousand balloons around my neckand float upwhile slowly dying of happiness.

The new world is as yetbehind the veil of destinyIn my eyes, howeverits dawn has been unveiled

I can't even make up a rhyme about an umbrella, let alone death and life and eternal peace.

as some strings, untouched,sound when no one is speaking.So it was when love slipped inside us.

Some people will tell you there is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea.

Pleasured equallyIn seeking as in finding,Each detail minding,Old Walt went seekingAnd finding.

All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

the poet I saw once...but whose words have long beenin my mind, windows of invincible candles...

It is the job of poetry to clean up our word-clogged reality by creating silences around things.

O jornalista é um poeta delicado: sempre acha o rascunho mais sincero do que o publicado.

holding a tiny dixie cup in my hand makes me feel like a giant human being that can crush things

Man is no star, but a quick coalOf mortal fire:Who blows it not, nor doth controlA faint desire,

Language has not the power to speak what love inditesThe soul lies buried in the Ink that writes

It's not about putting forth the questions, it's about accepting the answers we ask for.

Flow creation and new schematic produce. A marvelous thing art be in all it's possibilities.