Summer for prose and lemons, for nakedness and languor.

If you know what you are going to write when you're writing a poem, it's going to be average.

The voice does go up in a poem. It is an address, even if it is to oneself.

We look and see what we see in a mirror, and we believe it. That's important, the question of belief. The question is: Should we believe what we see in a mirror?

The sigh of History rises over ruins, not over landscapes, and in the Antilles there are few ruins to sigh over, apart from the ruins of sugar estates and abandoned forts.

You can't write drunk.

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