Each moment is a place you've never been.

In a field I am the absence of field. This is always the case. Wherever I am I am what is missing.

If every head of state and every government official spent an hour a day reading poetry we'd live in a much more humane and decent world.

She stood beside me for years, or was it a moment? I cannot remember. Maybe I loved her, maybe I didn't. There was a house, and then no house. There were trees, but none remain. When no one remembers, what is there? You, whose moments are gone, who drift like smoke in the afterlife, tell me something, tell me anything.

Usually a life turned into a poem is misrepresented.

I believe that all poetry is formal in that it exists within limits, limits that are either inherited by tradition or limits that language itself imposes.

The reality of a poem is a very ghostly one. It suggests, it suggests, it suggests again.