I held her wrists and then I got it through the eyes: hatred, centuries deep and true. I was wrong and graceless and sick. all the things I had learned had been wasted. there was no creature living as foul as I and all my poems were false.

I’ve had so many knives stuck into me, when they hand me a flower I can’t quite make out what it is. It takes time.

the last cigarettes are smoked, the loaves are sliced, and lest this be taken for wry sorrow, drown the spider in wine. you are much more than simply dead: I am a dish for your ashes, I am a fist for your vanished air. the most terrible thing about life is finding it gone.

I hid in bars, because I didn't want to hide in factories.

I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife inside because there was no alternative except to hide as long as possible--- not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance: trying to connect.

Insanity is relative. Who sets the norm?

You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics.