The first thing we have to do is get rid of the pentameter. To ditch the pentameter.

For every poet it is always morning in the world; history a forgotten, insomniac night. The fate of poetry is to fall in love with the world in spite of history.

I try to forget what happiness was, and when that don't work, I study the stars.

Time is the metre, memory the only plot.

I look in the mirror. There's me. What's in the mirror is not real. So am I unreal?

When you get a class reciting some great poems, it'll tear your heart out.

I too saw the wooden horse blocking the stars.