My Homeland Is Not A Suitcase, And

The Poem Is In My Hands, And Can Run Stories Through Her Hands.

May Poetry And God's Name Have Mercy On Us!

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.

When I Passed The Age Of 50, I Learned How To Control My Emotions.

I Have Learned And Dismantled All The Words In Order To Draw From Them A Single Word: Home.