Now I Am An Outcast. I Loathe

-but I've Just Noticed That My Mind Is Asleep.

True Life Is Elsewhere

I Dreamed Of Crusades, Voyages Of Discovery That Nobody Had Heard Of, Republics Without Histories, Religious Wars Stamped Out, Revolutions In Morals, Movements Of Races And Continents; I Used To Believe In Every Kind Of Magic. I Began It As An Investigation. I Turned Silences And Nights Into Words. What Was Unutterable, I Wrote Down. I Made The Whirling World Stand Still.

I Wrote Silences; Nights; I Recorded The Unnameable.

The Poet Makes Himself A Seer Through A Long, Vast And Painstaking Derangement Of All The Senses