White-Binder Poems  

When the poet descended to Hell
while sitting in his favorite chair
he met the massive dead who wore
philistine expressions wanting forgiveness
from the future, a necessity to go on.

                     "Know thyself Poet and sing your songs."

The dead know, now, the truth.

The poet is a madman one year, liberator the next
at the junction point between heaven and earth,
at the moment the sun lights up both horizons
and deep waters are spotted through the islands.

"The killers do not want revenge, only position!"