The glove has been thrown to the ground, The last choice of weapons made. A book for one thought. A poem for one line. A line for one word.

Now it is certain. There is no magic stone. No secret to be found. One must go With the mind's winnowed learning.

'Broken things are powerful.' Things about to break are stronger still. The last shot from the brittle bow is truest.

The maple tree that night Without a wind or rain Let go its leaves Because its time had come.

You advise me, too, not to stray far from the ground of experience, as I become weak when I enter the region of fiction; and you say, 'real experience is peren…

My work is a game, a very serious game.

Je suis un galerien de plume et d'encre.