WHEN ONE NAMES, WHAT IS COMMITTED?

The edges of words should release a little bit of haziness. Instead of accuracy. So that they cannot be defended henceforth, so that they surpass alone the dark glow of their boundaries.

And it should be the poet who named only from the injustice of vagueness in order to leave less death in certainties. He is the one who looks and sees another thing, who allows entering what nobody would say, who speaks only against all predictions, who will never taste the paste of acknowledgements

                                                  He who suspects the customary.
                                                                            And brings disorder.