The tree of knowledge was the tree… That’s why the taste of it drove us from Eden. That fruit was meant to be dried and milled t… for use a pinch at a time, a condi…

This is the year the old ones, the old great ones leave us alone on the road. The road leads to the sea. We have the words in our pockets,

A voice from the dark called out, “The poets must give us imagination of peace, to oust the… imagination of disaster. Peace, no… the absence of war.”

When I found the door I found the vine leaves speaking among themselves in abund… whispers. My presence made them

"The World is not something to look at, it is something to be in.… Mark Rudman I look and look. Looking’s a way of being: one beco…

Though the road turn at last to death’s ordinary door, and we knock there, ready to enter and it opens easily for us,

An old man whose black face shines golden-brown as wet pebbles under the streetlamp, is walking t… proportionate size, in the rain, in the relaxed early-evening avenu…

Delivered out of raw continual pai… smell of darkness, groans of those… to whom he was chained— unchained, and led past the sleepers,

The Rav of Northern White Russia declined… in his youth, to learn the language of birds, because the extraneous did not interest hi…

In the Japanese tongue of the min…

Bricks of the wall, so much older than the house - taken I think from a farm pulled d… when the street was built - narrow bricks of another century.

Some people, no matter what you give them, still want the moon. The bread, the salt,

High in the jacaranda shines the g… of a small bird’s curlicue of song… for her to see or hear. I’ve learned not to say, these last years,

The ache of marriage: thigh and tongue, beloved, are heavy with it, it throbs in the teeth We look for communion