I always was interested in prose. As a teenager, I published short stories. And I always wanted to write the long short story, I wanted to write a novel. Now that I have attained, shall I say, a respectable age, and have had experiences, I feel much more interested in prose, in the novel. I feel that in a novel, for example, you can get in toothbrushes and all the paraphernalia that one finds in dally life, and I find this more difficult in poetry.

There is no life higher than the grasstops

I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone.

I talk to God but the sky is empty.

The slime of all my yesterdays rots in the hollow of my skull.

I hadn't, at the last moment, felt like washing off the two diagonal lines of dried blood that marked my cheeks. They seemed touching, and rather spectacular, and I thought I would carry them around with me, like the relic of a dead lover, till they wore off of their own accord.