A baby is expected. A trip is expected. News is expected. Forgetfulness is expected. An invitation is expected. Hope is expected. But memories are not expected. They just come.

If you want to know what love is, have a child. If you want to know what pain is, bury him.

I love hiccups and I love sneezes and I love blinks and I love belches and I love gluttons. I love hair. I love bears. For me, the round. For me, the world.

I have nothing against the smell of rot but something against what hides the smell of rot in the United States of America.

Questions don't change the truth. But they give it motion.

Poetry must find ways of breaking distance.... all languages are dialects that are made to break new grounds.

Ambulances always come with clouds of smoke. And then they disappear in a whistle. But what they bring is fear. Not freedom. Feardom is what they bring. And they bring fire and smoke. Oh, my nerves are bad tonight, yes, bad. I fear freedom. I, above all, fear the freedom that is above all feardom.