The Soul Inside Me Is The Last

From The Place Where We Are Right, Flowers Will Not Grow In The Spring.

God Has Pity On Kindergarten Children

Tonight I Think Again Of Many Days That Are Sacrificed For One Night Of Love. Of The Waste And The Fruit Of The Waste, Of Plenty And Of Fire. And How Painlessly-time.

There Are Two Languages: One As Things Seem To Us And The Other Of Knowledge.

The Reason A Poet Is A Poet Is To Write Poems, Not To Advertise Himself As A Poet.