When The Rich Wage War, It's The

The Public, Too, Has To Make An Effort In Order To Understand The Writer Who, Though He Renounce Complacent Obscurity, Cannot Always Express His New-hidden Thoughts Lucidly And According To Accepted Models.

I Want To Leave, To Go Somewhere Where I Should Be Really In My Place, Where I Would Fit In . . . But My Place Is Nowhere; I Am Unwanted.

I Am Neither Virgin Nor Priest Enough To Play With The Inner Life.

There It Is: I Am Gently Slipping Into The Water's Depths, Towards Fear.

The Universe Remains Dark. We Are Animals Struck By Catastrophe.