He Who Cannot Howl Will Not Find

Only Brooms Know The Devil Still Exists, That The Snow Grows Whiter After A Crow Has Flown Over It

Poetry: Three Mismatched Shoes At The Entrance Of A Dark Alley.

We Name One Thing And Then Another. That’s How Time Enters Poetry. Space, On The Other Hand, Comes Into Being Through The Attention We Pay To Each Word. The More Intense Our Attention, The More Space, And There’s A Lot Of Space Inside Words.

The World Is Beautiful But Not Sayable. That's Why We Need Art.

Poetry Is An Orphan Of Silence.