I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.

There's simply too much fuss about myself.

I've had the good fortune to read a lot of great American writers in translation, and my absolute beloved, for me one of the greatest writers ever, is Mark Twain. Yes, yes, yes. And Whitman, from whom the whole of 20th-century poetry sprung up. Whitman was the origin of things, someone with a completely different outlook. But I think that he's the father of the new wave in the world's poetry which to this very day is hitting the shore.

I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.

I'm working on the world, revised, improved edition, featuring fun for fools blues for brooders, combs for bald pates, tricks for old dogs.

Get to know other worlds, if only for comparison.

All imperfection is easier to tolerate if served up in small doses.