“O whitest so soft parchment whereMy poor divorced lips have written excellent Stanzas of kisses, and will write no more.”
“the poem doesn’t have stanzas, it has a body, the poem doesn’t have lines,/ it has blood, the poem is not written with letters, it’s written/ with grains of sand and kisses, petals and moments, shouts and/ uncertainties.”
“Write to me Emmi. Writing is like kissing, but without lips. Writing is kissing with the mind.”
“So in a way, the more you kiss with lips, the more human you are.”
“Humans are the only animal that blushes, laughs, has religion, wages war, and kisses with lips. So in a way, the more you kiss with lips, the more human you are. And the more you wage war.”
“I may have written this before, but I may not have written it as well, so I’ll write it again.”