“Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.”

“On our earth, before writing was invented, before the printing press was invented, poetry flourished. That is why we know that poetry is like bread; it should be shared by all, by scholars and by peasants, by all our vast, incredible, extraordinary family of humanity.”

“ThenScale by scale,We strip offThe delicacyAnd eatThe peaceful mushOf its green heart.”

“It was at that agethat poetry came in search of me.”

“And our problems will crumble apart, the soul / blow through like a wind, and here where we livewill all be clean again, with fresh bread on the table.”

“Whom can I ask what I cameto make happen in the world?”

“Full woman, fleshly apple, hot moon, thick smell of seaweed, crushed mud and light, what obscure brilliance opens between your columns? What ancient night does a man touch with his senses? Loving is a journey with water and with stars, with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour: loving is a clash of lightning-bolts and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.”