We're All Curious About What Might Hurt

I Want To Be A Poet, From Head To Toe, Living And Dying By Poetry.

Little Black Horse. Where Are You Taking Your Dead Rider?

Relish The Fresh Landscape Of My Wound, Break Rushes And Delicate Rivulets, Drink Blood Poured On Honeyed Thigh.

...i Am The Immense Shadow Of My Tears

Seville Is A Tower Full Of Fine Archers.... Under The Arch Of The Sky, Across The Clear Plain, She Shoots The Constant Arrow Of Her River.