Those on the way are almost invisible
to those who are not. A man or a woman
recognizes God and starts out. The others
say he, or she, is losing faith.



I want a poet who cannot leave the Friend.
If he could, and still be always in love,
he would be a master, or he couldn’t.
Give us poets like that.



The sun is love. The lover,
a speck circling the sun.

A Spring wind moves to dance
any branch that isn’t dead.



Don’t let your throat tighten
with fear. Take sips of breath
all day and night. Before death
closes your mouth.