“The first star tonight insanely high, virgin, calm.I have one hour of peace before the documented planets burn me down.”

“He never described himself as a poet or his work as poetry. The fact that the lines do not come to the edge of the page is no guarantee. Poetry is a verdict, not an occupation. He hated to argue about the techniques of verse. The poem is a dirty, bloody, burning thing that has to be grabbed first with bare hands. Once the fire celebrated Light, the dirt Humility, the blood Sacrifice. Now the poets are professional fire-eaters, freelancing at any carnival. The fire goes down easily and honours no one in particular.”

“Maybe there's a God above,As for me, all I've ever seemed to learn from loveIs how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.Yeah but it's not a complaint that you hear tonight,It's not the laughter of someone who claims to have seen the lightNo it's a cold and it's a very lonely Hallelujah.”

“Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove Dance me to the end of love ”

“Love me this first day of June.I'd rather sleep with ashes than priestly wisdom.Of all the lonely places in the world this is best where debris is human.I kiss the precious ashes that fall from fiery flesh.On these familiar shapes I lay my kisses down.”

“Steam coming off the planet, clouds of fleecy steam as boy and girl populations clash in religious riots, hot and whistling like a graveyard sodomist our little planet embraces its fragile yo-yo destiny, tuned in the secular mind like a dying engine. But some do not hear it this way, some flying successful moon-shot eyes do not see it this way. They do not hear the individual noises shhh,hiss, they hear the sound of the sounds together, they behold the interstices flashing up and down the cone of the flowering whirlwind.”

“My heart sings of your longing for me, and my thoughts climb down to marvel at your mercy. I do not fear as you gather up my days. Your name is the sweetness of time, and you carry me close into the night, speaking consolations, drawing down lights from the sky, saying, See how the night has no terrors for one who remembers the name.”