What you remember saves you.
Modern poetry, for me, began not in English at all but in Spanish, in the poems of Lorca.
I offer you what I have myPoverty
Separation Your absence has gone through me Like thread through a needle. Everything I do is stitched with its color.
On the last day of the worldI would want to plant a tree
Through all of youth I was looking for youwithout knowing what I was looking for
from what we cannot hold the stars are made
I think there's a kind of desperate hope built into poetry now that one really wants, hopelessly, to save the world. One is trying to say everything that can be said for the things that one loves whil...
So this is what I amPondering his eyes that could notConceive that I was a creature to run fromI who have always believed too much in words
We keep asking where they have gonethose years we remember and wereach for them like hands in the night
A BIRTHDAY Something continues and I don't know what to call itthough the language is full of suggestionsin the way of languagebut they are all anonymousand it's almost your birthday music next to my...