The purpose of poetry is to remind us how difficult it is to remain just one person, for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors, and invisible guests come in and out at will.

We have become indifferent to content, and react, not even to form, but to technique, to technical efficiency itself.

Love means to look at yourself_x000D_ The way one looks at distant things_x000D_ For you are only one thing among many.

Do not feel safe. The poet remembers._x000D_ You can kill one, but another is born._x000D_ The words are written down, the deed, the date.

The living owe it to those who no longer can speak to tell their story for them.

I imagine the earth when I am no more: Women's dresses, dewy lilacs, a song in the valley. Yet the books will be there on the shelves, well born, Derived from people, but also from radiance, heights.