“And here face down beneath the sunAnd here upon earth’s noonward heightTo feel the always coming onThe always rising of the night”

“Around, around the sun we go:The moon goes round the earth.We do not die of death:We die of vertigo.”

“A poem should not meanBut be.”

“Ars PoeticaA poem should be palpable and muteAs a globed fruit,DumbAs old medallions to the thumb,Silent as the sleeve-worn stoneOf casement ledges where the moss has grown—A poem should be wordlessAs the flight of birds.A poem should be motionless in timeAs the moon climbs,Leaving, as the moon releasesTwig by twig the night-entangled trees,Leaving, as the moon behind the winter leaves,Memory by memory the mind—A poem should be motionless in timeAs the moon climbs.A poem should be equal to:Not true.For all the history of griefAn empty doorway and a maple leaf.For loveThe leaning grasses and two lights above the sea—A poem should not meanBut be.”