It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
The stars are filming us for no one.
For me, poetry is the music of being human. And also a time machine by which we can travel to who we are and to who we will become.
Time hates love, wants love poor,/but love spins gold, gold, gold from straw.
I have piles of poetry books in the bathroom, on the stairs, everywhere. The only way to write poetry is to read it.
I like to think that I'm a sort of poet for our times.