Purple as tulips in May, mauve into lush velvet, purple as the stain blackberries leave on the lips, on the hands, the purple of ripe gr

    Later someone told me they had found out the universe is a kind of strip that twists around and joins itself, and I believe it, someti

I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, typing out the God my typewriter believes in. Very quick. Very intense,

  Then in the valley, where the brook went by, Silvering the ledges that it rippled from, An isolated slip of fallen sky, Epitomizing heave

let us lie upon the sky and look upon the grass where the rain drops grow and the dew drops listen   on the newly mown clouds falls the

  All the others translate: the painter sketches A visible world to love or reject; Rummaging into his living, the poet fetches The images

  we stumble through the pain of every day knotted with need to get things done doing the clown walk, like a walking swan.   and deat

  the sunlight moving through it,   illuminating, holding the flower open like a high clear note, an ecstatic widening   whic

  This is love: to fly towards a secret sky                 to open the curtains, again and again.           to let g

  How I loved those spiky suns, rooted stubborn as childhood in the grass, tough as the farmer's big-headed children—the mats of yello

  The Pilgrim way has led to the Abyss. Was it to meet such grinning evidence We left our richly adorned ignorance? Was the triumphant answer t

  Is it not by his high superfluousness we know Our God? For to be equal a need Is natural, animal, mineral: but to fling Rainbows over t

So from the ground we felt that virtue branch Through all our veins till we were whole, our wrists As fresh and pure as water from a well, Our han

  Then new happenings happened, and said: 'Don't move a muscle. Something overwhelmingly generous is on its way.'   The sun is a foun

  and then my heart pulled itself apart and, filled to the brim with a new light, overflowed with fresh life.   now even the heaven

The windless northern surge, the sea-gull's scream, And Calvin's kirk crowning the barren brae. I think of Giotto the Tuscan shepherd's dream, Chr

If you want what visible reality can give, then you are: an underling. If you want the unseen world, you haven't discovered the truth. Both wi

  have you not noticed what the world is really like? it is like moonlight shining in dewdrops shaken, flying, from the beak of a crane.