Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space, that you've got to burn away all the peripherals.

I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.

The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower.

…beating time along the edge of thought.

You smile. No, it is not fatal.

Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?

Love life day by day, color by color, touch by touch.