I ride earth's burning carousel. Day in, day out.

I am silver and exact.I have no preconceptions.

I am what I feel and think and do.

Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air.

Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.

And I, stepping from this skin Of old bandages, boredoms, old faces Step to you from the black car of Lethe, Pure as a baby.

As a poet, one lives a bit on air. I always like someone who can teach me something practical.