Poetry Is News Brought To

Do Not Feel Safe. The Poet Remembers. You Can Kill One, But Another Is Born. The Words Are Written Down, The Deed, The Date.

Consciousness Even In My Sleep Changes Primary Colors. The Features Of My Face Melt Like A Wax Doll In The Fire. And Who Can Consent To See In The Mirror The Mere Face Of Man?

When I Die, I Will See The Lining Of The World. The Other Side, Beyond Bird, Mountain, Sunset.

What Is Poetry Which Does Not Save Nations Or People?

Grow Your Tree Of Falsehood From A Small Grain Of Truth. Do Not Follow Those Who Lie In Contempt Of Reality. Let Your Lie Be Even More Logical Than The Truth Itself, So The Weary Travelers May Find Repose.