“I feel the terror of idleness,like a red thirst.Death isn't just an idea.”

“And to tell the truth I don't want to let go of the wrists of idleness, I don't want to sell my life for money, I don't even want to come in out of the rain.”

“There are things you can’t reach. ButYou can reach out to them, and all day long.The wind, the bird flying away. The idea of god.And it can keep you busy as anything else, and happier.I look; morning to night I am never done with looking.Looking I mean not just standing around, but standing aroundAs though with your arms open.”

“Do you love this world? Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?”

“yoga soul today. instant resonation.Spring Somewherea black bearhas just risen from sleepand is staring down the mountain.All nightin the brisk and shallow restlessnessof early spring I think of her,her four black fistsflicking the gravel,her tongue like a red firetouching the grass,the cold water.There is only one question: how to love this world.I think of her risinglike a black and leafy ledge to sharpen her claws against the silenceof the trees.Whatever else my life iswith its poemsand its musicand its cities, it is also this dazzling darknesscoming down the mountain,breathing and tasting; all day I think of her –her white teeth,her wordlessness,her perfect love.”

“eventually tides will be the only calendar you believe in…And someone’s face, whom you love, will be as a starBoth intimate and ultimate, And you will be heart-shaken and respectful. And you will hear the air itself, like a beloved, whisperOh let me, for a while longer, enter the twoBeautiful bodies of your lungs...Look, and look again.This world is not just a little thrill for your eyes.It’s more than bones.It’s more than the delicate wrist with its personal pulse.It’s more than the beating of a single heart.It’s praising.It’s giving until the giving feels like receiving.You have a life- just imagine that!You have this day, and maybe another, and maybeStill another…And I have become the child of the clouds, and of hope.I have become the friend of the enemy, whoever that is.I have become older and, cherishing what I have learned, I have become younger.And what do I risk to tell you this, which is all I know?Love yourself. Then forget it. Then, love the world.”

“Far off in the red mangroves an alligator has heaved himself onto a hummock of grass and lies there, studying his poems.”