“When I set this task for myself, I knew very well that down the right sides of sonnets, with elegant discriminating taste, poets of all times have arranged rhymes that sound like silver, or crystal, or cannonfire. But–with great humility–I made these sonnets out of wood…Out of such softened relics, then, with hatchet and machete and pocketknife, I built up these lumber piles of love, and with fourteen boards each I built little houses, so that your eyes, which I adore and sing to, might live in them.”

…and the best part of all:

“Now that I have declared the foundations of my love, I surrender this century to you: wooden sonnets that rise only because you gave them life.”