The blizzard of the world has crossed the threshold and it's overturned the order of the soul.

We are awakening from the dream of isolation, from the dream of loneliness, and it's a terrible shock.

If you're lucky, you can keep the vehicle healthy and responsive over the years. If you're lucky, your own intentions have very little to do with this.

It's hard to hold the hand of anyone who is reaching for the sky just to surrender

The winter has not killed usagain!

I'm neither left or right. I'm just staying home tonight, getting lost in that hopeless little screen.

I always thought that poetry is the verdict that others give to a certain kind of writing. So to call yourself a poet is a kind of dangerous description. It's for others; it's for others to use.