Memory at last has what I sought.
Nothing's a gift, it's all on loan
I'm fighting against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words.
Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.
No one in my family has ever died of love. What happened, happened, but nothing myth-inspiring.
When I mention somebody, that doesn't necessarily mean that I identify with him, personally or poetically. I'm extremely happy when I encounter poets who are different than I am. The ones who have their own distinct poetics provide me with the greatest experiences.