Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren

Let there be seasons so that our tongues will be rich in asparagus and limes.

As a writer one has to take the chance on being a fool.

For I could not read or speak and on the long nights I could not turn the moon off or count the lights of cars across the ceiling.

I think I've been writing black poems all along, wearing my white mask. I'm always the victim ... but no longer!

And the aura of you remains, remains, remains...

Let there be a heaven so that man may outlive his grasses.