There Are Two Languages: One As Things

And As We Stray Further From Love, We Multiply The Words. Had We Remained Together We Could Have Become A Silence.

From The Place Where We Are Right, Flowers Will Not Grow In The Spring.

My Poems Are Political In The Deeper Sense Of The Word. Political Means To Live In Your Time, To Be A Man Of Your Time.

The Reason A Poet Is A Poet Is To Write Poems, Not To Advertise Himself As A Poet.

Tonight I Think Again Of Many Days That Are Sacrificed For One Night Of Love. Of The Waste And The Fruit Of The Waste, Of Plenty And Of Fire. And How Painlessly-time.