We Must Listen To Poets.

I Am A Dreamer Of Words, Of Written Words. I Think I Am Reading; A Word Stops Me. I Leave The Page. The Syllables Of The Word Begin To Move Around. Stressed Accents Begin To Invert. The Word Abandons Its Meaning Like An Overload Which Is Too Heavy And Prevents Dreaming. Then Words Take On Other Meanings As If They Had The Right To Be Young. And The Words Wander Away, Looking In The Nooks And Crannies Of Vocabulary For New Company, Bad Company.

Childhood Lasts All Through Life.

Nobody Knows That In Reading We Are Re-living Our Temptations To Be A Poet. All Readers Who Have A Certain Passion For Reading, Nurture And Repress, Through Reading, The Desire To Become A Writer.

In Living Off All The Reflecting Light Furnished By Poets, The I Which Dreams The Reverie Reveals Itself Not As Poet But As Poetizing I.

The Metaphor Is~ An Origin, The Origin Of An Image Which Acts Directly, Immediately.