I Offer You What I Have My

On The Last Day Of The World I Would Want To Plant A Tree

Modern Poetry, For Me, Began Not In English At All But In Spanish, In The Poems Of Lorca.

There Are Aspects Of Human Life That Are Not Purely Destructive, And There Is A Need To Pay Attention To The Things Around Us While They Are Still Around Us. And You Know, In A Way, If You Don't Pay That Attention, The Anger Is Just Bitterness.

Of Course There Is Nothing The Matter With The Stars It Is My Emptiness Among Them While They Drift Farther Away In The Invisible Morning

The Story Of Each Stone Leads Back To A Mountain.