Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head, but that is out of the question.

Poetry to me is prayer.

And if I tried to give you something else, something outside myself, you would not know that the worst of anyone can be, finally, an accident of hope

Fee-fi-fo-fum - Now I'm borrowed. Now I'm numb.

It is June. I am tired of being brave.

Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.

I hoard books. They are people who do not leave.