“Clouds sink down the hills Coffee is hot again. The dog Turns and turns about, stops and sleeps.”

“All this new stuff goes on topturn it over, turn it overwait and water downfrom the dark bottomturn it inside outlet it spread throughSift down even.Watch it sprout.A mind like compost.”

“There are those who love to get dirty and fix things. They drink coffee at dawn, beer after work. And those who stay clean, just appreciate things. At breakfast they have milk and juice at night. There are those who do both, they drink tea.”

“Lay down these wordsBefore your mind like rocks. placed solid, by handsIn choice of place, setBefore the body of the mind in space and time:Solidity of bark, leaf, or wall riprap of things:Cobble of milky way. straying planets,These poems, people, lost ponies withDragging saddles -- and rocky sure-foot trails.The worlds like an endless four-dimensionalGame of Go. ants and pebblesIn the thin loam, each rock a word a creek-washed stoneGranite: ingrained with torment of fire and weightCrystal and sediment linked hot all change, in thoughts,As well as things.”

“Clambering up the Cold Mountain path,The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on:The long gorge choked with scree and boulders,The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass.The moss is slippery, though there's been no rainThe pine sings, but there's no wind.Who can leap the world's tiesAnd sit with me among the white clouds?”

“On Climbing the Sierra Mountains again after 31 yearsRange after range of mountainsYear after year after year.I am still in love.”

“I have lived at Cold MountainThese thirty long years.Yesterday I called on friends and family:More than half had gone to the Yellow Springs.Slowly consumed, like fire down a candle;Forever flowing, like a passing river.Now, morning, I face my lone shadow:Suddenly my eyes are bleared with tears.”