Against barbarity, poetry can resist only by confirming its attachment to human fragility like a blade of grass growing on a wall while armies march by.
One day, I will be a poet. Water will depend on my visions.
The poem is in my hands, and can run stories through her hands.
When I passed the age of 50, I learned how to control my emotions.
The importance of poetry is not measured, finally, by what the poet says but by how he says it.
Nothing is harder on the soul, than the smell of dreams, while they're evaporating.