And I Tell Myself, A Moon Will

I Don't Decide To Represent Anything Except Myself. But That Self Is Full Of Collective Memory.

My Love, I Fear The Silence Of Your Hands.

She Does Not Love You. Your Metaphors Thrill Her You Are Her Poet. But That's All There's To It.

I Learnt All The Words Worthy Of The Court Of Blood So That I Could Break The Rule I Learnt All The Words And Broke Them Up To Make A Single Word: Homeland.

Poetry Is Perhaps What Teaches Us To Nurture The Charming Illusion: How To Be Reborn Out Of Ourselves Over And Over Again, And Use Words To Construct A Better World, A Fictitious World That Enables Us To Sign A Pact For A Permanent And Comprehensive Peace ... With Life.