What characterizes a poem is its necessary dependence on words as much as its struggle to transcend them.

A glass pitcher, a wicker basket, a tunic of coarse cloth. Their beauty is inseparable from their function. Handicrafts belong to a world existing before the separation of the useful and the beautiful.

Poetry is not truth, it is the resurrection of presences.

Every moment is nothing without end.

Mineral cactai, quicksilver lizards in the adobe walls, the bird that punctures space, thirst, tedium, clouds of dust, impalpable epiphanies of wind. The pines taught me to talk to myself. In that garden I learnedto send myself off. Later there were no gardens.

Reality is a staircase going neither up nor down, we don't move; today is today, always is today.

Love is born at first sight; the friendship of a frequent and lengthy exchange.