Things You May Find Hidden in My Ear

In other words, the poem is never an escape, it’s a return to a reality that is actually there.

I think it’s like we are living in a grave: we are not dead, we are going about our daily business, but in a grave.

The poem is free.

It lands in nests of migratory birds.

They sing it to the passing clouds.

The sea is one of the most beautiful things to look at. But, at the same time, it’s linked to bloody memories

When I think of water, I remember the sea

And if you can make them cry or smile, then you are a poet; if you can make them shiver, then you are a poet

When you are a poet, you need to be saying something that cannot be said by other people.

Go to your bed

and, in your sleep,

begin to memorize

your dream

Go to your bed

and, in your sleep,

begin to memorize

People say silence is a sign of consent.

What if I’m not allowed to speak,

my tongue severed,

my mouth sewn shut?