Even if a poet writes about sitting in a glass house drinking tea, it reflects politics.

From the place where we are right, flowers will not grow in the spring.

And I said to myself: That's true, hope needs to be like barbed wire to keep out despair, hope must be a mine field.

The memory of my father is wrapped up in white paper, like sandwiches taken for a day of work. Just as a magician takes towers and rabbits out of his hat, he drew love from his small body.

I’ve never been in those places where I’ve never been and never will be, I have no share in the infinity of light-years and dark-years, but the darkness is mine, and the light, and my time is my own.

Even if a poet writes about sitting in a glass house drinking tea, it reflects politics.

I try to stay a civilian, to live as a human, not as a poet.