Death Is A Master From Germany.

Illegibility Of This World. All Things Twice Over. The Strong Clocks Justify The Splitting Hour, Hoarsely. You , Clamped Into Your Deepest Part, Climb Out Of Yourself For Ever.

The Language With Which I Make My Poems Has Nothing To Do With One Spoken Here, Or Anywhere.

No One Bears Witness For The Witness

Who Is Invisible Enough To See You

I Went With My Very Being Toward Language.