Poetry is an orphan of silence.
Poems are other people's snapshots in which we see our own lives.
The poem I want to write is impossible. A stone that floats.
Words make love on the page like flies in the summer heat and the poet is only the bemused spectator.
I was already dozing off in the shade, dreaming that the rustling trees were my many selves explaining themselves all at the same time so that I could not make out a single word. My life was a beautiful mystery on the verge of understanding, always on the verge! Think of it!
Inside my empty bottle I was constructing a lighthouse while all others were making ships.