Painted desert, ocean of colorsun's worshiper, moon's loverpicture of a coyote's voicesandbox of angels, another toy.
Modern poetry, for me, began not in English at all but in Spanish, in the poems of Lorca.
I called it a baptism in flaming ink that forced me to shed my shyness about recognizing myself as a poet and to accept the fact that life had never given me any choice in the matter. And then I had to discover exactly what that meant.
Happy World Poetry Day: 'The American identity has never been a singular one and the voices of poets invariably sing, in addition to their own, the voices of those around them.