Letter to Pierre Loeb
...What was Baudelaire,
what were Edgar Poe, Nietzsche, Gerard de Nerval?
BODIES they were
that ate,
digested,
slept,
snored once a night...
40 thousand sleeps,
40 thousand snores,
40 thousand mouths safe and sour on waking
each putting out 50 poems out of himself,
not very much really,
and the balance between magical and automatic
production is very far from being maintained,
in fact is absolutely ruined,
but human reality, Pierre Loeb, is not that.
We are 50 poems,
the rest is not us but the nothingness we are clothed in...