The Poet Is He Who Inspires, Rather

We Want To Be, When We Are Young, A Little Man. I Would Like To Be A Big Child, Stronger And Fairer Than A Man, And More Lucid Than A Child.

You Cannot Be Known Better Than I Know You.

The Language Of My Love Does Not Belong To Human Language, My Human Body Does Not Touch The Flesh Of My Love.

The Front Windows As Are The Watchmen Of Grief - I've Been Looking Beyond Expectation - Beyond Myself - And I Do Not Know As I Love You - Which One Of Us Is Missing.

She Is Standing On My Lids And Her Hair Is In My Hair She Has The Colour Of My Eye She Has The Body Of My Hand In My Shade She Is Engulfed As A Stone Against The Sky She Will Never Close Her Eyes And She Does Not Let Me Sleep And Her Dreams In The Bright Day Make The Suns Evaporate And Me Laugh Cry And Laugh Speak When I Have Nothing To Say