What Does Autumn Go On Paying For

Peace Goes Into The Making Of A Poem As Flour Goes Into The Making Of Bread.

I Hunger For Your Sleek Laugh And Your Hands The Color Of A Furious Harvest. I Want To Eat The Sunbeams Flaring In Your Beauty.

Why Do Trees Conceal The Splendor Of Their Roots?

I Stroll Along Serenely, With My Eyes, My Shoes, My Rage, Forgetting Everything.

I'm Not Me But Living Matter Fermenting And Forming Its Own Shapes In The Fruitfulness Of Every Day.