I Could Never Throw Love Out Of

The Sun, The Hearth Of Affection And Life, Pours Burning Love On The Delighted Earth.

Hay Que Ser Absolutamente Moderno

Whose Hearts Must I Break? What Lies Must I Maintain? - Through Whose Blood Am I To Wade ?

Oh! If Only We Were Naked Now, And Free To Watch Our Protruding Parts Align; To Whisper - Both Of Us - In Ecstasy!

The Poet, Therefore, Is Truly The Thief Of Fire. He Is Responsible For Humanity, For Animals Even; He Will Have To Make Sure His Visions Can Be Smelled, Fondled, Listened To; If What He Brings Back From Beyond Has Form, He Gives It Form; If It Has None, He Gives It None. A Language Must Be Found…of The Soul, For The Soul And Will Include Everything: Perfumes, Sounds Colors, Thought Grappling With Thought