The blank page or the page covered with nothing but punctuation marks is like a cage without a bird inside. The real open work is the one that closes the door: the reader, on opening it, lets the bird, the poem, out. Opening the poem in search of this and discovering that — always something different from what we expected.Whether open or closed, the poem demands the demise of the poet who writes it and the birth of the poet who reads it.
Octavio Paz (from: frenchtwist)
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