but nothing can be taken back, not the leaves by the trees, the rain by the clouds. You want to take back the ugly thing you said, but some shrapnel remains in the wound, some mud.

Poets are excellent students of blizzards and salt and broken statuary, but they are always elsewhere for the test. Any intention in the writing of poetry besides the aim to make a poem, of engaging the materials, SHOULD be disappointed. If the poet does not have the chutzpah to jeopardize habituated assumptions and practices, what will be produced will be sleep without dream, a copy of a copy of a copy.

but nothing can be taken back, not the leaves by the trees, the rain by the clouds. You want to take back the ugly thing you said, but some shrapnel remains in the wound, some mud.

Just because we have birds inside us, we don't have to be cages.

You start with a darkness to move through but sometimes the darkness moves through you.

Go down any road far enough and you'll come to a slaughterhouse, but keep going and you'll reach the sea.

I was satisfied with haiku until I met you, but now I want a Russian novel, a 50-page description of you sleeping.