Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them.

… and I realise the only way to tell the others is through the way my voice can take these broken wordsand turn it into music. Turn it into poetry.And I sing to make myself...

Htinya sekarang seperti benda rapuh.Aku tak tahu seberapa retakatau hancur di dalam sana,Aku hanya bisa menerka-nerka dari siniDari tempatkuAku tak tahu apakah ia ingin kurengkuh atau kupelukAtau hanya sekadar kulihat dan ku dengar dari siniDari...

Four billion people on this earthbut my imagination is still the same.It’s bad with large numbers.It’s still taken by particularity.It flits in the dark like a flashlight,illuminating only random faceswhile all the rest go by,never...

The world is full of poetry. ~ The air is living with its spirit; and the waves dance to the music of its melodies, and sparkle in its brightness.

You may be ableto fly to heaven with my love.But for real, my love is onlya cheap wine.Seriously,Only God’s love is the precious wine.And She evengives it to everyone.For free!

The masters of information have forgotten about poetry, where words may have a meaning quite different from what the lexicon says, where the metaphoric spark is always one jump ahead of the decoding function, where...

And I or you pocketless of a dime, may purchase the pick of the earth.

Who will read these poems when the people are gone?

I am a convinced believer that nothing is “as it is”, but it is something that “can become”, or we can make out of, if we put faith in our inner resources and feelings to...

It’s 8a.m. and time to restIt’s 10a.m. and time to relaxIt’s noon and time for reposeIt’s 3p.m. and time for shut-eyeIt’s 6p.m. and time for siestaIt’s 9p.m. and time to slumberIt’s midnight and time to...

But the seawhich no one tendsis also a garden

Love After LoveThe time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat....

The Listeners’Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,Knocking on the moonlit door;And his horse in the silence champed the grassesOf the forest’s ferny floor.And a bird flew up out of the turret,Above the Traveller’s head:And...

The red washingdown the bathtubcan’t change the color of the seaat all.

Its snaky acids kiss.It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults That kill, that kill, that kill.

Love is the poetry of the senses!

Expansion (both far and wide) is the order of the day

I could have been 23 next July I gambled on what mattered most, the dice were cast. I lost.

I will try to disappoint youbetter than anyone else has.

To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary.

False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu! Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.

LOCKING HORNSSome are afraid to try new things,To take a simple risk,Limiting what they might accomplish,Limiting what they might wish.I’m not afraid to try new things,To take a little risk,For I believe that we’ve only...

No man was ever yet a great poet, without at the same time being a profound philosopher.

…callamos los volcanes florecidos!

Rem tene, verba sequentur: grasp the subject, and the words will follow. This, I believe, is the opposite of what happens with poetry, which is more a case of verba tene, res sequenter: grasp the...

He calls me desperate (on my tombstone)I hope poetic license will allow: HUNGRY

I walked a mile with Pleasure;She chatted all the way;But left me none the wiserFor all she had to say.I walked a mile with Sorrow;And ne’er a word said she;But, oh! The things I learned...

Hearing a crow with no mouthCry in the deepDarkness of the night,I feel a longing forMy father before he was born.

For me, the short story is not a character sketch, a mouse trap, an epiphany, a slice of suburban life. It is the flowering of a symbol center. It is a poem grafted onto sturdier...

Though the body is itsgenesis, a poem is the vision of a processOut of ceaseless motion in edgeless spaceCarved in space, vision your poor eye’s singlearmor against winter spring summer fall

And would it have been worth it, after all,Would it have been worth while,After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along...

The ring comes whenever it willbecause it’s darkwhere the mountains motherand being stuck in one spotis something to ring bells about

Poetry is only the highest eloquence of passion, the most vivid form of expression that can be given to our conception of anything, whether pleasurable or painful, mean or dignified, delightful or distressing. It is...

A wounded dear leaps the highest

My imagination makes me human and makes me a fool; it gives me all the world and exiles me from it.

Il troppo mi urta – è così insolito.Mi sentivo a disagio, spaesata -come una bacca di fratta montanatrapiantata sulla strada.E non avevo fame. Allora capiiche la fame è un istinto di chi guarda le vetrine...

Every heart must have its privatebestseller book.

Perhaps pondering words is also a form of seeking justice. If a monologue can invite a chorus, then perhaps it can speak for others as well.

my poetry is merely a body.you are the soul in my words.

The difference between the poet and the mathematician is that the poet tries to get his head into the heavens while the mathematician tries to get the heavens into his head.

there is some achingthat will only heal…in the mosque of sleep.

Here the phenomenologist has nothing in common with the literary critic who, as has frequently been noted, judges a work that he could not create and, if we are to believe certain facile condemnations, would...

Do not turn me intorestless watersif you cannot promiseto be my stream.

Sweet as the tender fragrance that survives,When martyred flowers breathe out their little lives,Sweet as a song that once consoled our pain,But never will be sung to us again,Is they remembrance. Now the hour of...

Poetry is an affair of sanity, of seeing things as they are.

Four simple chambers.A thousand complicated doors.One of them is yours.

If my life were a fragrance, it would smell like the sea.

AimlesslyIt pounds the shore. White and aimless signals. NoOne listens to poetry.— from “Thing Language

The glamorous splender of a mystical moon.. Natures sleepless wonders.