A Poem Is An Instant Of Lucidity

Insomnia Is An All-night Travel Agency With Posters Advertising Faraway Places.

Only Brooms Know The Devil Still Exists, That The Snow Grows Whiter After A Crow Has Flown Over It

Here Is Something We Can All Count On. Sooner Or Later Our Tribe Always Comes To Ask Us To Agree To Murder.

I Was Already Dozing Off In The Shade, Dreaming That The Rustling Trees Were My Many Selves Explaining Themselves All At The Same Time So That I Could Not Make Out A Single Word. My Life Was A Beautiful Mystery On The Verge Of Understanding, Always On The Verge! Think Of It!

We Name One Thing And Then Another. That’s How Time Enters Poetry. Space, On The Other Hand, Comes Into Being Through The Attention We Pay To Each Word. The More Intense Our Attention, The More Space, And There’s A Lot Of Space Inside Words.