I Have With Me All

Separation Your Absence Has Gone Through Me Like Thread Through A Needle. Everything I Do Is Stitched With Its Color.

Obviously A Garden Is Not The Wilderness But An Assembly Of Shapes, Most Of Them Living, That Owes Some Share Of Its Composition, It’s Appearance, To Human Design And Effort, Human Conventions And Convenience, And The Human Pursuit Of That Elusive, Indefinable Harmony That We Call Beauty. It Has A Life Of Its Own, An Intricate, Willful, Secret Life, As Any Gardener Knows. It Is Only The Humans In It Who Think Of It As A Garden. But A Garden Is A Relationship, Which Is One Of The Countless Reasons Why It Is Never Finished.

Modern Poetry, For Me, Began Not In English At All But In Spanish, In The Poems Of Lorca.

You Grieve Not That Heaven Does Not Exist But That It Exists Without Us

There Is Part Of A Structure In Which Every Species Is Related To Every Other Species. And They're Built Up On Species, Like A Pyramid. The Simpler Cell Organisms, And Then The More Complicated Ones, All The Way Up To The Mammals And Birds And So Forth. We Call It 'developing Upward'... The Whole Thing Depends On Every Part Of It. And We're Taking Out The Stones From The Pyramid.