I know only about laying a puzzle, creating dissected combinations of the strange or mundane, trying to map a personal universe.
I hail the spontaneous as opposed to the perfected. And art as not separated from life – how could I chase to describe being in an abstract or impersonal way?
Images, words turn up, happen. I can not really command it, but respond. A bit like collecting rubbish and making something out of it.
Poetry is about all those things that can not be expressed by language yet can only be expressed by language.
A poem is like a person. It has a body and a voice, a shape and a rhythm. It is the new-born-with-an-absolute-pitch and the-old-and-wise in one.
One can mask intensity with words, hide it, but using the bridge that poetry provides can be a means to become whole.
I invite you into my universe. Perhaps there is a patch that we share?