“I usually write for the individual reader -though I would like to have many such…” — Wislawa Szymborska

After every war someone has to tidy up.

I have sympathy for young people, for their growing pains, but I balk when these growing pains are pushed into the foreground, when you make these young people the only vehicles of life's wisdom.

I cannot speak for more than an hour exclusively about poetry. At that point, life itself takes over again.

In the language of poetry, where every word is weighed, nothing is usual or normal. Not a single stone and not a single cloud above it. Not a single day and not a single night after it. And above all, not a single existence, not anyone's existence in this world.