My Body, Plowed By Your Body, Will

When A Society Decays, It Is Language That Is First To Become Gangrenous. As A Result, Social Criticism Begins With Grammar And The Re-establishing Of Meanings

By Diminishing The Value Of Silence, Publicity Has Also Diminished That Of Language. The Two Are Inseparable: Knowing How To Speak Has Always Meant Knowing How To Keep Silent, Knowing That There Are Times When One Should Say Nothing.

The Woman Who Died Night After Night And Her Dying Was A Long Goodbye, A Train That Never Left.

Enormous And Solid But Swaying, Beaten By The Wind But Chained, Murmur Of A Million Leaves Against My Window. Riot Of Trees, Surge Of Dark Green Sounds. The Grove, Suddenly Still, Is A Web Of Fronds And Branches.

Literature Is The Expression Of A Feeling Of Deprivation, A Recourse Against A Sense Of Something Missing. But The Contrary Is Also True: Language Is What Makes Us Human. It Is A Recourse Against The Meaningless Noise And Silence Of Nature And History.