They've Healed Me To Pieces.

The Poem Is Lonely. It Is Lonely And En Route. Its Author Stays With It. Does This Very Fact Not Place The Poem Already Here, At Its Inception, In The Encounter, In The Mystery Of Encounter?

German Poetry Is Going In A Very Different Direction From French Poetry.... Its Language Has Become More Sober, More Factual. It Distrusts "beauty." It Tries To Be Truthful.

We Are Told That When Hölderlin Went 'mad,' He Constantly Repeated, 'nothing Is Happening To Me, Nothing Is Happening To Me.'

You're Rowing By Wordlight

A Nothing We Were, Are, Shall Remain, Flowering: The Nothing--, The No One's Rose.