When I Die, I Will

I Imagine The Earth When I Am No More: Women's Dresses, Dewy Lilacs, A Song In The Valley. Yet The Books Will Be There On The Shelves, Well Born, Derived From People, But Also From Radiance, Heights.

Poetry Is News Brought To The Mountains By A Unicorn And An Echo.

Irony Is The Glory Of Slaves.

The Partition Separating Life From Death Is So Tenuous. The Unbelievable Fragility Of Our Organism Suggests A Vision On A Screen: A Kind Of Mist Condenses Itself Into A Human Shape, Lasts A Moment And Scatters.

Love Means To Look At Yourself The Way One Looks At Distant Things For You Are Only One Thing Among Many.