If I Believe In Anything, It Is

There’s No Preparation For Poetry.

Making Art In America Is About Saving One's Soul.

We Name One Thing And Then Another. That’s How Time Enters Poetry. Space, On The Other Hand, Comes Into Being Through The Attention We Pay To Each Word. The More Intense Our Attention, The More Space, And There’s A Lot Of Space Inside Words.

Only Brooms Know The Devil Still Exists, That The Snow Grows Whiter After A Crow Has Flown Over It

Poetry Is An Orphan Of Silence.