I have no desire to dress up my poetry and make it fancy. I want the poem to be as true as humanly possible to the feeling that inspired it. That's my only concern. Everything else seems wrong.

Destiny doesn't exist. It's God we need, and fast.

Suffering belongs to no language.

Páscoa(...)Divido o dia em três partes:a primeira pra olhar retratos,a segunda pra olhar espelhos,a última e maior delas, pra chorar.(...)

Amor violetaO amor me fere é debaixo do braço,de um vão entre as costelas.Atinge meu coração é por esta via inclinada.Eu ponho o amor no pilão com cinzae grão de roxo e soco. Macero ele,faço dele cataplasmae ponho sobre a ferida.

EXHAUSTEDI want a sleep permit,forgiveness to rest for hours,without even dreamingthe light straw of a small dream.I want what before lifewas the deep sleep of the species,the grace of a state.Seed.Much more than roots.