Do you think it’s possible to cultivate a desire for poems, even if you’ve been trained most of your life nothing about poetry? I don’t know but why isn’t an instinct in all of us to write, at least once, like a sacred communion, just one fucking poem? I do not know but it seems to me that when I go off into these fucking fields of mean words I came back happy, as if, once in a while it's a good thing to do it just to clear my head. Poetry, I’ve grown closer to you but that corner of myself I can’t reach, I know it bothers your as much as it bothers me,. anyways, like if it really matters, but, my dear escape, I love you like a permanent and nice Oregon's rain...and..well, fucking cheers.!!! Fidel Guerra, Oregon, July 30, 220.