Death, Vicious Death, Leave A Green Branch

The One Thing Life Has Taught Me Is That Most People Spend Their Lives Bottled Up Inside Their Houses Doing The Things They Hate.

Green How I Want You Green. Green Wind. Green Branches.

While The Poet Wrestles With The Horses On His Brain And The Sculptor Wounds His Eyes On The Hard Spark Of Alabaster, The Dancer Battles The Air Around Her, Air That Threatens At Any Moment To Destroy Her Harmony Or To Open Huge Open Empty Spaces Where Her Rhythm Will Be Annihilated.

I've Often Lost Myself, In Order To Find The Burn That Keeps Everything Awake

In Our Eyes The Roads Are Endless. Two Are Crossroads Of The Shadow.