My Body, Plowed By Your Body, Will

Love Is Not A Desire For Beauty; It Is A Yearning For Completion.

Beyond Myself, Somewhere, I Wait For My Arrival.

Beyond Happiness Or Unhappiness, Though It Is Both Things, Love Is Intensity; It Does Not Give Us Eternity But Life, That Second In Which The Doors Of Time And Space Open Just A Crack: Here Is There And Now Is Always.

To Love Is To Undress Our Names.

Poet: Gardener Of Epitaphs.