centerYou are standing at the edge… at twilight when something begins to sing, like a waterfall pouring down

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…

The feet of the heron, under those bamboo stems, hold the blue body, the great beak above the shallows

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

Have you ever seen anything in your life more wonderful than the way the sun,

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

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

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

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

Don’t call this world adorable, or… It’s frisky, and a theater for mor… The eyelash of lightning is neithe… The struck tree burns like a pilla… But the blue rain sinks, straight…

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…

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

On a summer morning I sat down on a hillside to think about God – a worthy pastime.

I’d seen their hoofprints in the deep needles and knew they ended the long night under the pines, walking