Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown.
Poetry is a sort of homecoming.
no one bears witness for the witness
Don't sign your name between worlds, surmount the manifold of meanings, trust the tearstain, learn to live.
We are told that when Hölderlin went 'mad,' he constantly repeated, 'Nothing is happening to me, nothing is happening to me.'
They've healed me to pieces.