You Can Cut All The Flowers But

We Came By Night To The Fortunate Isles, And Lay Like Fish Under The Net Of Our Kisses.

In The House Of Poetry Nothing Endures That Is Not Written With Blood To Be Heard With Blood.

This Means That We Have Barely Disembarked Into Life, That We've Only Just Now Been Born, Let's Not Fill Our Mouths With So Many Uncertain Names, With So Many Sad Labels, With So Many Pompous Letters, With So Much Yours And Mine, With So Much Signing Of Papers. I Intend To Confuse Things, To Unite Them, Make Them New-born Intermingle Them, Undress Them, Until The Light Of The World Has The Unity Of The Ocean, A Generous Wholeness, A Fragrance Alive And Crackling.

It Was My Destiny To Love And Say Goodbye.

Perhaps The Earth Can Teach Us As When Everything Seems Dead And Later Proves To Be Alive