I Will Try To Be Non-violent One

I Am Haunted By Interrupted Acts, Introspective As A Leper, Enchanted By A Repulsive Clew, A Gross And Fugitive Movement Of The Limbs. Is This The Love That Shook The Lights To Flame?

The Process Of Writing A Poem Represents Work Done On The Self Of The Poet, In Order To Make Form.

What Three Things Can Never Be Done? / Forget. Keep Silent. Stand Alone

Those Who Speak Of Our Culture As Dead Or Dying Have A Quarrel With Life, And I Think They Cannot Understand Its Terms, But Must Endlessly Repeat The Projection Of Their Own Desires.

I Am Working Out The Vocabulary Of My Silence.