We Are All Carousers And

Hands, Matches, An Ashtray. A Ritual Beautiful And Bitter.

Poems Are My Link With The Times, With The New Life Of My People.

My Shadow Serves As The Friend I Crave

I Am In The Middle Of It: Chaos And Poetry; Poetry And Love And Again, Complete Chaos. Pain, Disorder, Occasional Clarity; And At The Bottom Of It All: Only Love; Poetry. Sheer Enchantment, Fear, Humiliation. It All Comes With Love

You Do Not Know Just What You've Been Forgiven.