No one can know me …
No one can know me
better than you know me
your eyes in which we’re
both sleeping
are better than these masculine lights
for seeing through the nights of the world
your eyes in which I journey
give the road signs
surreal and airborne meanings
in your eyes these things are revealed
our endless patient solitudes
revealed for what they are
no one can know you
better than I know you
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Critique Of Poetry
This is it I hate the rule of the bourgeois
the rule of pigs and priests
but I hate even more the man who doesn’t hate these things
like me
with all his might.
I spit in the face of the man smaller than nature
who of all my poems doesn’t prefer this Critique
Of Poetry.