The True Theater, Because It

We Have The Right To Lie, But Not About The Heart Of The Matter.

Not Once More Will/i Be Found With Beings/who Swallowed The Rail Of Life//and One Day I Found Myself With Beings/who Swallowed The Nail Of Life/-as Soon As I Lost My Matrix Mamma,//and The Being Twisted Under Him,/and God Poured Me Back To Her/(the Motherfucker).

I See In The Act Of Throwing The Dice And Of Risking The Affirmation Of Some Intuitively Felt Truth, However Uncertain, My Whole Reason For Living.

Poetry Is A Dissociating And Anarchic Force Which Through Analogy, Associations And Imagery, Thrives On The Destruction Of Known Relationships.

With Society And Its Public, There Is No Longer Any Other Language Than That Of Bombs, Barricades, And All That Follows.