Poetry isn't like any writing I've ever heard before. I don't understand all of it, just bits of images, sentences that appear half-finished, all fluttering together like brightly colored ribbons in the wind.

“For the first time in my life I actually feel sorry for Carol. I'm only sevente…”

“That's the whole point, after all: There's no going back.”

“Soy capaz, me atrevo y voy a hacerlo.”

“He believed in people. He believed that if people could only be shown the right…”