I like you; your eyes are full of language.

It doesn't matter who my father was, it matters who I remember he was.

The poet's job is to put into words those feelings we all have that are so deep, so important, and yet so difficult to name, to tell the truth in such a beautiful way, that people cannot live without it.

It doesn’t matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.

The womb is not a clock / nor a bell tolling, / but in the eleventh month of its life / I feel the November / of the body as well as of the calendar. / In two days it will be my birthday / and as always the earth is done with its harvest.

If you meet a cross-eyed person you must plunge into the grass, alongside the chilly ants, fish through the green fingernails and come up with the four-leaf clover.

Here in front of the summer hotel the beach waits like an altar.

Be careful of words, they can be both daisies and bruises.

A starving man doesn't ask what the meal is.

Nature is full of teeth that come in one by one, then decay, fall out