Who sleeps at night? No one is sleeping.
 In the cradle a child is screaming.
 An old man sits over his death, and anyone
 young enough talks to his love, breathes 
into her lips, looks into her eyes.

Women talk about love and silent about lovers, men - on the contrary: Speaking of mistresses, but are silent about love.

No one has ever stepped twice into the same river. But did anyone ever step twice into the same book?

I opened my veins. Unstoppably life spurts out with no remedy. Now I set out bowls and plates. Every bowl will be shallow. Every plate will be small. And overflowing their rims, into the black earth, to nourish the rushes unstoppably without cure, gushes poetry.

How quiet the writing, how noisy the printing.

My desk, most loyal friend thank you. You've been with me on every road I've taken. My scar and my protection.

I am a moonbeam, free to go whenever I choose.