I'm a poet, a prosaist, a playwright, a graphician, a sculptor, a composer, a philosopher, a self-styled priest, an apostle, a knight, an elf and a little horse of blow-ball. As about the kind of poetry as presented here -- I call it Poems of The Fox (anyone remembers J.M. Arguedas?) -- some critic told me it's crap, has no meaning, you can change the order of verses and notice no difference.... Yes, you can, I replied, so what? Some people consider everything must be the same. While that critic one looks for "Mary had a little lamb," in every poem, my pieces are the melody of sentences, unusual words' relations, ephitet aliens, swift visions, where you can't tell what's going on, but somewhere deep you feel it's phenomenal and beautiful... It demands you have the deep, whatsoever. Well, bring about lots of confusion and you're Joyce, bring some more and you're a blockhead!