Don't For A Moment Believe He Was

The Job Of The Poet (a Job Which Can't Be Learned) Consists Of Placing Those Objects Of The Visible World Which Have Become Invisible Due To The Glue Of Habit, In An Unusual Position Which Strikes The Soul And Gives Them A Tragic Force.

Compromise Yourself. Obscure Your Own Trail.

We Only Serve As A Model For The Portrait Of Our Fame.

The Hot Hall Full Of Painted Girls And American Soldiers Is A Saloon In Some Western Film. This Noise Drenches Us, Wakens Us To Do Something Else. It Shows Us A Lost Path.

Poetry Is Indispensable - If I Only Knew What For.