“They ended every speech with the word hiro, which means: like I said. Thus each man took responsibility for intruding into the inarticulate murmur of the spheres. To hiro they added the word koue, a cry of joy or distress, according to whether it was sung or howled. Thus they essayed to piece the mysterious curtain which hangs between all talking men: at the end of every utterance a man stepped back, so to speak, and attempted to interpret his words to the listener, attempted to subvert the beguiling intellect with the noise of true emotion.”

“I heard of a manwho says words so beautifullythat if he only speaks their namewomen give themselves to him.If I am dumb beside your bodywhile silence blossoms like tumors on our lipsit is because I hear a man climb stairsand clear his throat outside our door.”

“It was a dance of masks and every mask was perfect because every mask was a real face and every face was areal mask so there was no mask and there was no face for there was but one dance in which there was butone mask but one true face which was the same and which was a thing without a name which changed andchanged into itself over and over.”

“what is most original in a man's nature is often that which is most desperate. thus new systems are forced on the world by men who simply cannot bear the pain of living with what is. creators care nothing for their systems except that they be unique. if Hitler had been born in Nazi Germany he wouldn't have been content to enjoy the atmosphere.”

“what is the expression which the age demands? the age demands no expression whatever. we have seen photographs of bereaved asian mothers. we are not interested in the agony of your fumbled organs. there is nothing you can show on your face that can match the horror of this time. do not even try. you will only hold yourself up to the scorn of those who have felt things deeply. we have seen newsreels of humans in the extremities of pain and dislocation.you are playing to people who have experienced a catastrophe. this should make you very quiet. speak the words, convey the data, step aside. everyone knows you are in pain. you cannot tell the audience everything you know about love in every line of love you speak. step aside and they will know what you know because you know it already. you have nothing to teach them. you are not more beautiful than they are. you are not wiser.do not shout at them. do not force a dry entry. that is bad sex. if you show the lines of your genitals, then deliver what you promise. and remember that people do not really want an acrobat in bed. what is our need? to be close to the natural man, to be close to the natural woman. do not pretend that you are a beloved singer with a vast loyal audience which has followed the ups and downs of your life to this very moment. the bombs, flame-throwers, and all the shit have destroyed more than just the trees and villages. they have also destroyed the stage. did you think that your profession would escape the general destruction? there is no more stage. there are no more footlights. you are among the people. then be modest. speak the words, convey the data, step aside. be by yourself. be in your own room. do not put yourself on.do not act out words. never act out words. never try to leave the floor when you talk about flying. never close your eyes and jerk your head to one side when you talk about death. do not fix your burning eyes on me when you speak about love. if you want to impress me when you speak about love put your hand in your pocket or under your dress and play with yourself. if ambition and the hunger for applause have driven you to speak about love you should learn how to do it without disgracing yourself or the material.this is an interior landscape. it is inside. it is private. respect the privacy of the material. these pieces were written in silence. the courage of the play is to speak them. the discipline of the play is not to violate them. let the audience feel your love of privacy even though there is no privacy. be good whores. the poem is not a slogan. it cannot advertise you. it cannot promote your reputation for sensitivity. you are students of discipline. do not act out the words. the words die when you act them out, they wither, and we are left with nothing but your ambition.the poem is nothing but information. it is the constitution of the inner country. if you declaim it and blow it up with noble intentions then you are no better than the politicians whom you despise. you are just someone waving a flag and making the cheapest kind of appeal to a kind of emotional patriotism. think of the words as science, not as art. they are a report. you are speaking before a meeting of the explorers' club of the national geographic society. these people know all the risks of mountain climbing. they honour you by taking this for granted. if you rub their faces in it that is an insult to their hospitality. do not work the audience for gasps ans sighs. if you are worthy of gasps and sighs it will not be from your appreciation of the event but from theirs. it will be in the statistics and not the trembling of the voice or the cutting of the air with your hands. it will be in the data and the quiet organization of your presence.avoid the flourish. do not be afraid to be weak. do not be ashamed to be tired. you look good when you're tired. you look like you could go on forever. now come into my arms. you are the image of my beauty.”

“Except for a couple of hours in the morning which I passed in the company of a sage I stayed in bed without food only a few mouthfuls of water “you are a fine looking old man” I said to myself in the mirror “and what is more you have the correct attitude You don’t care if it ends or if it goes on And as for the women and the music there will be plenty of that in Paradise” Then I went to the Mosque of Memory to express my gratitude ”

“-You know how to call mealthough such a noise nowwould only confuse the airNeither of us can forgetthe steps we dancedthe words you stretchedto call me out of dustYes I long for younot just as a leaf for weatheror vase for handsbut with a narrow human longingthat makes a man refuseany fields but his ownI wait for you at anunexpected place in your journeylike the rusted keyor the feather you do not pick up.--I WILL NEVER FIND THE FACESFOR ALL GOODBYES I'VE MADE.-For Anyone Dressed in MarbleThe miracle we all are waiting foris waiting till the Parthenon falls downand House of Birthdays is a house no moreand fathers are unpoisoned by renown.The medals and the records of abusecan't help us on our pilgrimage to lust,but like whips certain perverts never use,compel our flesh in paralysing trust.I see an orphan, lawless and serene,standing in a corner of the sky,body something like bodies that have been,but not the scar of naming in his eye.Bred close to the ovens, he's burnt inside.Light, wind, cold, dark -- they use him like a bride.I Had It for a MomentI had it for a momentI knew why I must thank youI saw powerful governing men in black suitsI saw them undressedin the arms of young mistressesthe men more naked than the naked womenthe men crying quietlyNo that is not itI'm losing why I must thank youwhich means I'm left with pure longingHow old are youDo you like your thighsI had it for a momentI had a reason for letting the pictureof your mouth destroy my conversationSomething on the radiothe end of a Mexican songI saw the musicians getting paidthey are not even surprisedthey knew it was only a jobNow I've lost it completelyA lot of people think you are beautifulHow do I feel about thatI have no feeling about thatI had a wonderful reason for not merelycourting youIt was tied up with the newspapersI saw secret arrangements in high officesI saw men who loved their worldlinesseven though they had looked throughbig electric telescopesthey still thought their worldliness was seriousnot just a hobby a taste a harmless affectationthey thought the cosmos listenedI was suddenly fearfulone of their obscure regulationscould separate usI was ready to beg for mercyNow I'm getting into humiliationI've lost why I began thisI wanted to talk about your eyesI know nothing about your eyesand you've noticed how little I knowI want you somewhere safefar from high officesI'll study you laterSo many people want to cry quietly beside you”