To Read A Poem Is To Hear

Enormous And Solid But Swaying, Beaten By The Wind But Chained, Murmur Of A Million Leaves Against My Window. Riot Of Trees, Surge Of Dark Green Sounds. The Grove, Suddenly Still, Is A Web Of Fronds And Branches.

Poets Have The Gift To Speak For Others, Vasko Popa Had The Very Rare Quality Of Hearing The Others.

I Don't Believe That There Are Dangerous Writers: The Danger Of Certain Books Is Not In The Books Themselves But In The Passions Of Their Readers.

Each Time We Try To Express Ourselves We Have To Break With Ourselves.

Reality Is A Staircase Going Neither Up Nor Down, We Don't Move; Today Is Today, Always Is Today.