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By AnonymKiki Dimoula
I don't aspire, but I would be very happy if one of my poems suddenly offered someone a shady rest stop, a breather in our interminable march under the murderous, scorching heat of the superfluous.
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By AnonymKiki Dimoula
If anything needs love it is reality, for it is reality that lacks it the most - I doubt that it was ever loved.
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By AnonymKiki Dimoula
I write very rarely. Only, in fact, when the sheet of paper suffers an existential crisis and threatens, if I don't surrender to it, to bury me alive under its whiteness.
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By AnonymKiki Dimoula
Life's essential length is only a few pages long, as succinct as a line of verse and as brief as the title of a poem.
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By AnonymKiki Dimoula
Love grows by not giving to us. And if our passion for poetry lives on and persists, it is because poetry offers us only its bits of lint.
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By AnonymKiki Dimoula
Poetry contains love and holds it in high esteem, even though love always humiliates it by using it merely as a soothing after-shave lotion.
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By AnonymKiki Dimoula
Poetry relishes ripe fruit - but ripe is one thing and overripe quite another. That's something poetry doesn't like, so it couldn't care less if I were to fall overripe to the ground.
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By AnonymKiki Dimoula
What I try to do is to keep emotion on a tight leash; otherwise, it can never be transubstantiated into poetry.
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By AnonymKiki Dimoula
You are walking in a desert.You hear a bird singing.As absurd as it may seem for a bird to be pending in the desert,you are obligated to make it a tree.That's poem
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