Sometimes A Piece Of Sun Burned Like

There Is No Insurmountable Solitude.

Perhaps This War Will Pass Like The Others Which Divided Us Leaving Us Dead, Killing Us Along With The Killers But The Shame Of This Time Puts Its Burning Fingers To Our Faces. Who Will Erase The Ruthlessness Hidden In Innocent Blood?

Is 4 The Same 4 For Everybody? Are All Sevens Equal? When The Convict Ponders The Light Is It The Same Light That Shines On You?

What Does Autumn Go On Paying For With So Much Yellow Money?

I Stroll Along Serenely, With My Eyes, My Shoes, My Rage, Forgetting Everything, I Walk By, Going Through Office Buildings And Orthopedic Shops, And Courtyards With Washing Hanging From The Line: Underwear, Towels And Shirts From Which Slow Dirty Tears Are Falling.