The Northern Lights Rise Like A Kiss

I Shed More Tears Than God Could Ever Have Required.

I Believe That I Am In Hell, Therefore I Am There.

The Poet Makes Himself A Seer Through A Long, Vast And Painstaking Derangement Of All The Senses

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

I May Die Of Earthly Love, Or Of Devotion.