“I had a dogwho loved flowers.Briskly she wentthrough the fields,yet pausedfor the honeysuckleor the rose,her dark headand her wet nosetouchingthe faceof every onewith its petalsof silkwith its fragrancerisinginto the airwhere the bees,their bodiesheavy with pollenhovered -and easilyshe adoredevery blossomnot in the seriouscareful waythat we choosethis blossom or that blossomthe way we praise or don't praise -the way we loveor don't love -but the waywe long to be -that happyin the heaven of earth -that wild, that loving.”

“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.”

“If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb. (Don't Hesitate)”

“From the complications of loving youI think there is no end or return.No answer, no coming out of it.Which is the only way to love, isn’t it?This isn’t a play ground, this isearth, our heaven, for a while.Therefore I have given precedenceto all my sudden, sullen, dark moodsthat hold you in the center of my world.And I say to my body: grow thinner still.And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song.And I say to my heart: rave on.”

“Also I wanted to be able to loveAnd we all know how that one goes, don't we?Slowly”

“I thought the earth remembered me,she took me back so tenderly,arranging her dark skirts, her pocketsfull of lichens and seeds.I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed,nothing between me and the white fire of the starsbut my thoughts, and they floated light as mothsamong the branches of the perfect trees.All night I heard the small kingdomsbreathing around me, the insects,and the birds who do their work in the darkness.All night I rose and fell, as if in water,grappling with a luminous doom. By morningI had vanished at least a dozen timesinto something better.”

“oxygen Everything needs it: bone, muscles, and even, while it calls the earth its home, the soul. So the merciful, noisy machine stands in our house working away in its lung-like voice. I hear it as I kneel before the fire, stirring with a stick of iron, letting the logs lie more loosely. You, in the upstairs room, are in your usual position, leaning on your right shoulder which aches all day. You are breathing patiently; it is a beautiful sound. It is your life, which is so close to my own that I would not know where to drop the knife of separation. And what does this have to do with love, except everything? Now the fire rises and offers a dozen, singing, deep-red roses of flame. Then it settles to quietude, or maybe gratitude, as it feeds as we all do, as we must, upon the invisible gift: our purest, sweet necessity: the air.”