Language Is The Only Homeland.

It Is Sweet To Think I Was A Companion In An Expedition That Never Ends

Two Attributes Of A Poet, Avidity Of The Eye And The Desire To Describe That Which He Sees.

The Living Owe It To Those Who No Longer Can Speak To Tell Their Story For Them.

You See How I Try To Reach With Words What Matters Most And How I Fail.

In A Room Where People Unanimously Maintain A Conspiracy Of Silence, One Word Of Truth Sounds Like A Pistol Shot.