Memory is a poet, not an historian.
I am living. I remember you.
Without devotion any life becomes a stranger's story...told for the body to forget what it once loved.
But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless: I am living. I remember you.
A traitor commits his crime but once. The rest/is retribution.
We tell each other stories to help each other live. That’s why I read poetry. I read poetry to stay alive. That’s why I went to poetry in the first place, that’s why I stay with it, that’s why I’ll never leave it.