There are people who recall my father as a saint and a monster. I’m quite sure I will share the same fate.
The enslaving of the other is also the enslaving of the self.
I write and have done so primarily for personal pleasure.
Words are potent weapons for all causes, good or bad.
The poetic prose that most interests me is that of Henri Michaux.
I am in no way different from anyone else, that my predicament, my sense of aloneness or isolation may be precisely what unites me with everyone.
Poetry endures when it possesses passionate and primally sincere clarity in the service of articulating universal human concerns.
There is a tragic clash between Truth and the world. Pure undistorted truth burns up the world.
I wish my father could be around.
Moderation is the secret of survival.