From its quiver, the moon
sends silver arrows
Into the sea
...
O Beautiful bride of mystic darkness
your hair does scorn the night
When moon-light mingles with your tresses
O what visual delight
...
There are times
when I hate to have to
meet people;
times when I just need
...
I see my dreams in a crystal bowl
They are the reflections of things
Both weird and strange
I have dreamed of dinosaurs
...
Peace on wings, a hawk
Circles serenely beneath
Waves of bubble-wrap clouds
Below is the lush green
...
Every word of a poet
Is like a chip of stone
Dislodged by a sculptor’s chisel
the form in both cases
...