Poetry is an exhibit of one pendulum connecting with other and unseen pendulums inside and outside the one seen.

People lie because they don't remember clear what they saw. People lie because they can't help making a story better than it was the way it happened.

Nothing happens... but first a dream.

Strange things blow in through my window on the wings of the night wind and I don't worry about my destiny.

I make it clear why I write as I do and why other poets write as they do. After hundreds of experiments I decided to go my own way in style and see what would happen.

Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.

Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.