I have never separated the writing of poetry from prayer. I have grown up believing it is a vocation, a religious vocation.

I too saw the wooden horse blocking the stars.

Visual surprise is natural in the Caribbean; it comes with the landscape, and faced with its beauty, the sigh of History dissolves.

We read, we travel, we become.

I know when dark-haired evening put on her bright silk at sunset, and, folding the sea sidled under the sheet with her starry laugh, that there'd be no rest, there'd be no forgetting. Is like telling mourners round the graveside about resurrection, they want the dead back.

Art is History's nostalgia, it prefers a thatched roof to a concrete factory, and the huge church above a bleached village.

The English language is nobody's special property.