I Wanted To Be Calm, Like A

The Reason A Poet Is A Poet Is To Write Poems, Not To Advertise Himself As A Poet.

I Think The End Is Endless. It's Either A Big Black Hole Or A Big White Light Or Both Together. But It's Totally Meaningless, Because Even If Someone Would Explain It, I Wouldn't Understand It.

A Flock Of Sheep Near The Airport Or A High Voltage Generator Beside The Orchard: These Combinations Open Up My Life Like A Wound, But They Also Heal It. That's Why My Feelings Always Come In Twos.

The Soul Inside Me Is The Last Foreign Language I'm Learning.

From The Place Where We Are Right, Flowers Will Not Grow In The Spring.