“...The silence of a place where there were once horsesis a mountainand I have seen by lightning that ever mountainonce fell from the airringinglike the chime of an iron shoe...”

“My cradlewas a shoe.”

“Utterance"Sitting over wordsVery late I have heard a kind of whispered sighingNot farLike a night wind in pines or like the sea in the darkThe echo of everything that has everBeen spokenStill spinning its one syllableBetween the earth and silence”

“come backbeliever in shadebeliever in silence and elegancebeliever in fernsbeliever in patiencebeliever in the rain”

“I had hardly begun to readI asked how can you ever be surethat what you write is reallyany good at all and he said you can'tyou can't you can never be sureyou die without knowingwhether anything you wrote was any goodif you have to be sure don't write”

“I offer you what I have myPoverty”

“So this is what I amPondering his eyes that could notConceive that I was a creature to run fromI who have always believed too much in words”