Time changes nothing, girl, but the size of your underwear. . .and hopefully your hairdo.

I act as the tongue of you,... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.

Poetry is inspired by the elements of random thoughts, an overflow of gazing at the unseen.

There Are No Believers in This World:There Are Only the Make Believers and the Non-Believers.

I do not write to you, but of you,/because the paper that we write on/is our perishable skin.

Maybe you could be mine / or maybe we’ll be entwined / aimless in this sexless foreplay.

Who has not sat before his own heart's curtain? It lifts: and the scenery is falling apart.

How are his poems?""He's not as good as he thinks he is, but then most of us feel that way.

When the hatred stops will the love begin? When there is no more greed will there then be peace?

For a poet, it will be terrible if there are no women. He will not have anything to write about.

The Poet makes himself a seer through a long, vast and painstaking derangement of all the senses

That odd infallible sliding-like-crystal air on water that means day's left dawn for morning.

Nothing fills the world quite as poetry does. A poet need not dwell on the pagecount of his life.

An aged man is but a paltry thing,A tattered coat upon a stick, unlessSoul clap its hands and sing,

Really, he thought, if you couldn't trust a poet to offer sensible advice, who could you trust?