What You Remember Saves You.

To Say What Or Where We Came From Has Nothing To Do With What Or Where We Came From. We Do Not Come From There Any More, But Only From Each Word That Proceeds Out Of The Mouth Of The Unnamed. And Yet Sometimes It Is Our Only Way Of Pointing To Who We Are.

My Words Are The Garment Of What I Shall Never Be Like The Tucked Sleeve Of A One-armed Boy.

We Are Not Born To Survive. Only To Live.

I Say To My Breath Once Again, Little Breath Come From In Front Of Me, Go Away Behind Me, Row Me Quietly Now, As Far As You Can, For I Am An Abyss That I Am Trying To Cross.

Any Work Of Art Makes One Very Simple Demand On Anyone Who Genuinely Wants To Get In Touch With It. And That Is To Stop. You've Got To Stop What You're Doing, What You're Thinking, And What You're Expecting And Just Be There For The Poem For However Long It Takes.