I hated childhood / I hate adulthood / And I love being alive.

A poem is a neutrino - mainly nothing - it has no mass and can pass through the earth undetected.

Metaphor is not, and never has been, a mere literary term. It is an event.

In our marginal existence, what else is there but this voice within us, this great weirdness we are always leaning forward to listen to?

Yes, the mistrust of poetry has a long history, for a variety of reasons, but they all come down to sentiment and invention over fact and truth. Figurative language is suspicious.

Something unpronounceable followed by a long silence points out my life is becoming a landscape.

There is a world which poets cannot seem to enter. It is the world everybody else lives in. And the only thing poets seem to have in common is their yearning to enter this world.