Let Ignorance Reproduce Itself Until

I Am A Poet Who Composes What Life Proses, And Who Proses What Life Composes.

Limited Love Asks For Possession Of The Beloved, But The Unlimited Asks Only For Itself.

I Want Every Image To Be The Beginning Of An Unseen Image.

The Wolves Prey Upon The Lambs In The Darkness Of The Night, But The Blood Stains Remain Upon The Stones In The Valley Until The Dawn Comes, And The Sun Reveals The Crime To All.

I Wash My Hands Of Those Who Imagine Chattering To Be Knowledge, Silence To Be Ignorance, And Affection To Be Art.