I will reveal you who I am. I am your reflection.

And blue-lung'd combers lumbered to the kill.

Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.

If you have a fight work it out, don't get out

LightLightThe visible reminder of Invisible Light.

It is probably always disastrous not to be a poet.

Here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed.

How do I learn to speakwhen silence is all I know?

Min ene sko knirker af mangel på stjerneskud

See--two who dreamed that dream, and you were one.

Your war drum ain't / louder than this breath.

If I bet on humanity, I'd never cash a ticket.

Poetry will die when love and pain cease to exist.

I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.

Evening came, a paw, to the gray hut by the river.