Death Laid Its Eggs In The Wound

Death, Vicious Death, Leave A Green Branch For Love.

I Put My Head Out Of My Window And See How Much The Wind’s Knife Wants To Slice It Off. On This Unseen Guillotine, I’ve Placed The Eyeless Head Of All My Desires.

The Little Mute Boy The Little Boy Was Looking For His Voice. (the King Of The Crickets Had It.) In A Drop Of Water The Little Boy Was Looking For His Voice. I Do Not Want It For Speaking With; I Will Make A Ring Of It So That He May Wear My Silence On His Little Finger In A Drop Of Water The Little Boy Was Looking For His Voice. (the Captive Voice, Far Away, Put On A Cricket's Clothes.) Translated By William S. Merwin

All One's Personality Is Embedded In Gloves And Hats After They've Been Good And Used. Show Me A Glove And I'll Tell You The Character Of Its Owner.

Hail, Mute Devil! You Are The Most Intense Animal. An Eternal Mystic Of The Fleshly Inferno.