Time-awareness does indeed watermark my books and my life.

I want to understand the piers of language and music and comprehension that can hold up a building even when what the building houses is an earthquake. This thinking must surely come into the poems I write, but more by osmosis than will.

In my poems though, as you say, the comic arrived fairly late. This doubtless has something to do with growing older. A person who's seen a bit of the world can't help but notice how foolish is the self-centeredness we bring to our tiny slice of existence.

As this life is not a gate, but the horse plunging through it.

Passion does not make careful arguments: it declares itself, and that is enough.

At some unnoticed moment, I began to understand that a life is written in indelible ink.

How fragile we are, between the few good moments.