“…description is deadly to a prose poem.”

“I never liked the term “experimental writing,” but what else is a prose poem? Having written a number of them, I still don’t know how they’re written.”

“There’s only the writing, which I admit to knowing very little about. But then it’s probably best not to know. It allows one to work without expectation. Best to let the poem do the thinking while we concern ourselves with what’s called the personal life.”

“أحب الخبز حسن الشكل. الخبز الشهى. ذلك النوع من الخبز الذى يظهر فى أحلام الجوع.وكان أن التقيت بمثل ذلك الخبز. طرقت باباً(وأنا أحياناً أفعل ذلك لأحافظ على لياقة مفاصل أصابعى)؛ فظهرت امرأة ذات كتل عجينية غير متناسبة(كانت لها طلعةُ غير معجونة ولا مخبوزة) وفى يدها رغيفُ حسن الشكل إلى حدٍ ما.أخذت قضمةً وبدأ الرغيف يبكى.”

“I think, therefore I am, said a man whose mother quickly hit him on the head, saying, I hit my son on the head, therefore I am.No no, you've got it all wrong, cried the man.So she hit him on the head again and cried, therefore I am.You're not, not that way; you're supposed to think, not hit, cried the man.. . . I think, therefore I am, said the man.I hit, therefore we both are, the hitter and the one who gets hit, said the man's mother.But at this point the man had ceased to be; unconscious he could not think. But his mother could. So she thought, I am, and so is my unconscious son, even if he doesn't know it . . .”

“Perhaps I should kiss the face of the kitchen clock for luck. Perhaps its little hands with rapture would encircle my neck and we might be happy. I am sure happiness is not too far away”

“Remember, words are the enemy of poetry.”