Streams And Mountains Never Stay The Same.

My Grandmother Standing Wordless Fifteen Minutes Between Rows Of Loganberries, Clippers Poised In Her Hand.

I Never Find Words Right Away. Poems For Me Always Begin With Images And Rhythms, Shapes, Feelings, Forms, Dances In The Back Of My Mind.

Revolutionary Consciousness Is To Be Found Among The Most Ruthlessly Exploited Masses: Animals, Trees, Water, Air, Grasses

Wherever Man Exists, He Finds The Need To Redesign, To Recreate The World. A More Beautiful World, Purer, Sweeter Smelling And More Colorful. A Garden Is Probably The Spot Where The Hopes For Civilization Are Best Captured. In Fact, Man Defines Himself By His Garden. My Grandmother Standing Wordless Fifteen Minutes Between Rows Of Loganberries, Clippers Poised In Her Hand.

If, After Obtaining Buddhahood, Anyone In My Land Gets Tossed In Jail On A Vagrancy Rap, May I Not Attain Highest Perfect Enlightenment.