A Great Poet Does Not Express His

My Grandmother Standing Wordless Fifteen Minutes Between Rows Of Loganberries, Clippers Poised In Her Hand.

In Western Civilization, Our Elders Are Books.

All Those Years And Their Moments— Crackling Bacon, Slamming Car Doors, Poems Tried Out On Friends, Will Be One More Archive, One More Shaky Text.

Wildness Is Not Just The "preservation Of The World," It Is The World

Nature Is Not A Place To Visit. It Is Home.