The submission of Poetry

The world does not need words. It articulates itself in sunlight, leaves, and shadows. The stones on the path are no less real for lying uncatalogued and uncounted. The fluent leaves speak only the dialect of pure being. The kiss is still itself though no words were...

The admission of Poetry

I came upon poetry late in life, and am sorry for that fact. It was four years after I arrived in New York City, the spring of 2002 that I first discovered the wonders of a well turned phrase. I was 34. An invitation came to me for a gathering where poet and soon to...