Poet: Gardener Of Epitaphs.

The Beloved Is Already In Our Being, As Thirst And "otherness." Being Is Eroticism. Inspiration Is That Strange Voice That Takes Man Out Of Himself To Be Every Thing That He Is, Everything That He Desires; Another Body, Another Being. Beyond, Outside Of Me, In The Green And Gold Thicket, Among The Tremulous Branches, Sings The Unknown. It Calls To Me.

Surrealism Is Not A School Of Poetry But A Movement Of Liberation... A Way Of Rediscovering The Language Of Innocence, A Renewal Of The Primordial Pact, Poetry Is The Basic Text, The Foundation Of The Human Order. Surrealism Is Revolutionary Because It Is A Return To The Beginning Of All Beginnings.

It Is The Revolution, The Magical Word, The Word That Is Going To Change Everything, That Is Going To Bring Us Immense Delight And A Quick Death.

Solitude Lies At The Lowest Depth Of The Human Condition. Man Is The Only Being Who Feels Himself To Be Alone And The Only One Who Is Searching For The Other.

We Are Condemned To Kill Time, Thus We Die Bit By Bit.