There are no hierarchies, no infinite, no such many as mass, there are only/ eyes in all heads,/ to be looked out of.

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

I hope you're representing the devil's advocate.

Knowledge is the harvest of attention

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

Forgive me if I sleep until I wake up.

I'm one of the cliches that has grown up.