It Is No Use Painting The Foot

In The Whole World No Poor Devil Is Lynched, No Wretch Is Tortured, In Whom I Too Am Not Degraded And Murdered.

And Let Me Die Suddenly, To Be Born Again In The Revelation Of Beauty....and The Revelation Of Beauty Is The Wisdom Of The Ancestors.

It Is No Use Painting The Foot Of The Tree White, The Strength Of The Bark Cries Out From Beneath The Paint.

I Would Rediscover The Secret Of Great Communications And Great Combustions. I Would Say Storm. I Would Say River. I Would Say Tornado. I Would Say Leaf. I Would Say Tree. I Would Be Drenched By All Rains, Moistened By All Dews. I Would Roll Like Frenetic Blood On The Slow Current Of The Eye Of Words Turned Into Mad Horses Into Fresh Children Into Clots Into Curfew Into Vestiges Of Temples Into Precious Stones Remote Enough To Discourage Miners. Whoever Would Not Understand Me Would Not Understand Any Better The Roaring Of A Tiger.

Culture Is Everything. Culture Is The Way We Dress, The Way We Carry Our Heads, The Way We Walk, The Way We Tie Our Ties - It Is Not Only The Fact Of Writing Books Or Building Houses.