Paris, I Believe, Is A Man In

The Contradiction In Perspective Was That It Structured All Images Of Reality To Address A Single Spectator Who, Unlike God, Could Only Be In One Place At A Time.

My Heart Born Naked Was Swaddled In Lullabies. Later Alone It Wore Poems For Clothes. Like A Shirt I Carried On My Back The Poetry I Had Read. So I Lived For Half A Century Until Wordlessly We Met. From My Shirt On The Back Of The Chair I Learn Tonight How Many Years Of Learning By Heart I Waited For You.

You Painted A Naked Woman Because You Enjoyed Looking At Her, Put A Mirror In Her Hand And You Called The Painting “vanity,” Thus Morally Condemning The Woman Whose Nakedness You Had Depicted For You Own Pleasure.

A Peasant Becomes Fond Of His Pig And Is Glad To Salt Away Its Pork. What Is Significant, And Is So Difficult For The Urban Stranger To Understand, Is That The Two Statements Are Connected By An And Not By A But.

Today The Discredit Of Words Is Very Great.