I Am Just A Refugee From The

To Write A Poem Is Like Trying To Catch A Lizard Without Its Tail Falling Off.

…i Once Found A List Of Diseases As Yet Unclassified By Medical Science, And Among These There Occurred The Word Islomania, Which Was Described As A Rare But By No Means Unknown Affliction Of Spirit. There Are People…who Find Islands Somehow Irresistible. The Mere Knowledge That They Are On An Island, A Little World Surrounded By The Sea, Fills Them With An Indescribable Intoxication. These Born “islomanes”…are Direct Descendents Of The Atlanteans

It Is Not Peace We Seek But Meaning.

I Am Quite Alone. I Am Neither Happy Nor Unhappy; I Lie Suspended Like A Hair Or A Feather In The Cloudy Mixtures Of Memory.

The Steward, According To Custom, Had Stopped All The Clocks. This, In The Language Of Narouz, Said "your Stay With Us Is So Brief, Let Us Not Be Reminded Of The Flight Of The Hours."