Love After Love all your life, whom you have ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life.
When you get a class reciting some great poems, it'll tear your heart out.
When poems are no good they don't make any sense.
You can't write drunk.
The poem is itself a mirror.
Visual surprise is natural in the Caribbean; it comes with the landscape, and faced with its beauty, the sigh of History dissolves.