An imperfect creative expression is much more sensible and creative than a grammatically perfect expression without an iota of sense and value in it.
When writers die they become books, which is, after all, not too bad an incarnation.”
[As attributed by Alastair Reid in Neruda and Borges, The New Yorker, June 24, 1996; as well as in The Talk of the Town, The New Yorker, July 7, 1986]
After awhile you realize that putting your actions where your mouth is makes you less likely to have to put your money where your mouth is.
When they’re gone out of his head, these words, they’ll be gone, everywhere, forever. As if they had never been.
All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.
My head is full of fire
and grief and my tongue
runs wild, pierced
with shards of glass.
The baby understands that its mother loves it. … Words have their origin in baby talk, so words have their origin in love.
I came to
pen another poem for you,
but even every unwritten poem
Words have their own hierarchy, their own protocol, their own artistic titles, their own plebeian stigmas.
VISION is the voice inside that transcends words and shines through the initiation!