The poem, for me, is simply the first sound realized in the modality of being.

Knowledge is the harvest of attention

I'm sorry, but I was born with a towel on my head.

There is a grace of life which is still yours, my dear Europe.

All that matters is that the thing be the thing of the thing.

What does not change is the will to change

An American is a complex of occasions, themselves a geometry of spatial nature.