Is It In These Bottomless Nights That

Morality Is The Weakness Of The Mind.

The Northern Lights Rise Like A Kiss To The Sea

The Poet, Therefore, Is Truly The Thief Of Fire. He Is Responsible For Humanity, For Animals Even; He Will Have To Make Sure His Visions Can Be Smelled, Fondled, Listened To; If What He Brings Back From Beyond Has Form, He Gives It Form; If It Has None, He Gives It None. A Language Must Be Found…of The Soul, For The Soul And Will Include Everything: Perfumes, Sounds Colors, Thought Grappling With Thought

The Sun, The Hearth Of Affection And Life, Pours Burning Love On The Delighted Earth.

I Went Out Under The Sky, Muse! And I Was Your Vassal.