Every Step We Take On Earth Brings

The Groom Is Like A Flower Of Gold. When He Walks, Blossoms At His Feet Unfold.

While The Poet Wrestles With The Horses On His Brain And The Sculptor Wounds His Eyes On The Hard Spark Of Alabaster, The Dancer Battles The Air Around Her, Air That Threatens At Any Moment To Destroy Her Harmony Or To Open Huge Open Empty Spaces Where Her Rhythm Will Be Annihilated.

...i Am The Immense Shadow Of My Tears

What Matters Most Has An Ultimate Metallic Quality Of Death. The Chasuble And The Wagon Wheel, The Razor And The Prickly Beards Of Shepherds, The Bare Moon, A Fly, Humid Cupboards, Rubble Piles, The Images Of Saints Covered In Lace, Quicklime, And The Wounding Edges Of The Rooflines And Watchtowers.

Pero Yo Ya No Soy Yo Ni Mi Casa Es Ya Mi Casa. But Now I Am No Longer I, Nor Is My House Any Longer My House.