I Think That At The Bottom Of

Uncontradicting Solitude Supports Me On Its Giant Palm; And Like A Sea-anemone Or Simple Snail, There Cautiously Unfolds, Emerges, What I Am.

Boys Dream Of Native Girls Who Bring Breadfruit, Whatever They Are.

I Wonder Love Can Have Already Set In Dreams, When We've Not Met More Times Than I Can Number On One Hand.

I Wouldn't Mind Seeing China If I Could Come Back The Same Day.

Here No Elsewhere Underwrites My Existence.