The first fish I ever caught would not lie down quiet in the pail but flailed and sucked

I know someone who kisses the way a flower opens, but more rapidly. Flowers are sweet. They have short, beatific lives. They offer much pleasure. There is

In the early curtains of the dusk it flew, a slow galloping this way and that way

Who made the world? Who made the swan, and the black b… Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean– the one who has flung herself out…

There is, all around us, this country of original fire. You know what I mean. The sky, after all, stops at nothi…

Did you too see it, drifting, all… Did you see it in the morning, ris… An armful of white blossoms, A perfect commotion of silk and li… into the bondage of its wings; a s…

Understand, I am always trying to… what the soul is, and where hidden, and what shape and so, last week,

When the blackberries hang swollen in the woods, in the bramb… nobody owns, I spend all day among the high branches, reaching

One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice—

My work is loving the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hum… equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there t… Here the clam deep in the speckled…

All winter the water has crashed over the cold the cold sand. Now it breaks over the thin branch of your body.

Every morning the world is created. Under the orange sticks of the sun

Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who make the morning and spread it over the fields and into the faces of the tulips and the nodding morning glories,

Needing one, I invented her— the great-great-aunt dark as hicko… called Shining-Leaf, or Drifting… or The-Beauty-of-the-Night. Dear aunt, I’d call into the leav…

“For example, what the trees do not only in lightning storms or the watery dark of a summer’s n… or under the white nets of winter but now, and now, and now—whenever