If you know what you are going to write when you're writing a poem, it's going to be average.
She's a rare vase, out of a cat's reach, on its shelf.
Visual surprise is natural in the Caribbean; it comes with the landscape, and faced with its beauty, the sigh of History dissolves.
I try to forget what happiness was, and when that don't work, I study the stars.
In Eden who sleeps happiest? The serpent.
How can I turn from Africa and live?