Not yesterday I learned to know,The love of bare November days,Before the coming of the snow.

My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the beach, listening to the dance-music of the tide in the evening.

My day is done, and I am like a boat drawn on the beach, listening to the dance-music of the tide in the evening.

The world we suggest is a new wild west. A sensuous evil world. Strange and haunting, the path of the sun.

If my poetry aims to achieve anything, it's to deliver people from the limited ways in which they see and feel.

Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything; it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through any one that suits you.