Siempre, siempre: jardin de mi agonia, tu cuerpo fugitivo para siempre, la sangre de tus venas en mi boca, tu boca ya sin luz para mi muerte. -From 'Del amor imprevisto', Federico Garcia Lorca
Poetry is my cheap means of transportation. By the end of the poem the reader should be in a different place from where he started. I would like him to be slightly disoriented at the end, like I drove him outside of town at night and dropped him off in a cornfield. — Billy Collins