La Duda Es Uno De Los Nombres

On The Floor, And Hanging On To The Bar, Squatted An Old Man, Immobile As An Object. His Years Had Reduced And Polished Him As Water Does A Stone Or The Generations Of Men Do A Sentence.

Poetry Springs From Something Deeper; It's Beyond Intelligence.

Captivated By Its Discipline, Humanity Forgets And Goes On Forgetting That It Is The Discipline Of Chess Players, Not Of Angels.

All Literature, Is, Finally Autobiographical.

Reality Favors Symmetry.