Poems like to have a destination for their flight. They are homing pigeons.

Inside my mother's death / I lay and could not breathe.

letters are so much easier than living. One can give one's best.

For to be desperate is to discover strength. / We die of comfort and by conflict live.

Time spent with poets is never wasted.

A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself.

a poet never feels useful.