I See Poetry As Spiritual Medicine.

I See What I Want Of Love... I See Horses Making The Meadow Dance, Fifty Guitars Sighing, And A Swarm Of Bees Suckling The Wild Berries, And I Close My Eyes Until I See Our Shadow Behind This Dispossessed Place... I See What I Want Of People: Their Desire To Long For Anything, Their Lateness In Getting To Work And Their Hurry To Return To Their Folk... And Their Need To Say: Good Morning.

Against Barbarity, Poetry Can Resist Only By Confirming Its Attachment To Human Fragility Like A Blade Of Grass Growing On A Wall While Armies March By.

When A Writer Declares That His First Book Is His Best, That Is Bad. I Progress Successively From Book To Book.

History Laughs At Both The Victim And The Aggressor.

The Poem Is Neither Here Nor There, And With A Girl's Breast It Can Illuminate The Nights. With The Glow Of An Apple It Fills Two Bodies With Light And With A Gardenia's Breath It Can Revive A Homeland!