I Want To Be A Poet, From

The Little Mute Boy The Little Boy Was Looking For His Voice. (the King Of The Crickets Had It.) In A Drop Of Water The Little Boy Was Looking For His Voice. I Do Not Want It For Speaking With; I Will Make A Ring Of It So That He May Wear My Silence On His Little Finger In A Drop Of Water The Little Boy Was Looking For His Voice. (the Captive Voice, Far Away, Put On A Cricket's Clothes.) Translated By William S. Merwin

Besides Black Art, There Is Only Automation And Mechanization.

Relish The Fresh Landscape Of My Wound, Break Rushes And Delicate Rivulets, Drink Blood Poured On Honeyed Thigh.

To See You Naked Is To Recall The Earth.

The Theater Has To Impose Itself On The Public, And Not The Public On The Theater... The Word "art" Should Be Written Everywhere, In The Auditorium And In The Dressing Rooms, Before The Word "business" Gets Written There.