Today Is Today, And Yesterday Is Gone.

I Stroll Along Serenely, With My Eyes, My Shoes, My Rage, Forgetting Everything.

But From Each Crime Are Born Bullets That Will One Day Seek Out In You Where The Heart Lies.

To Love Is To Tilt With The Lightning, Two Bodies Routed By A Single Honey's Sweet.

The Best Poet Is The Man Who Delivers Our Daily Bread: The Local Baker.

Each In The Most Hidden Sack Kept The Lost Jewels Of Memory, Intense Love, Secret Nights And Permanent Kisses, The Fragment Of Public Or Private Happiness. A Few, The Wolves, Collected Thighs, Other Men Loved The Dawn Scratching Mountain Ranges Or Ice Floes, Locomotives, Numbers. For Me Happiness Was To Share Singing, Praising, Cursing, Crying With A Thousand Eyes. I Ask Forgiveness For My Bad Ways: My Life Had No Use On Earth.