Victorian Sorrow: The Stars Are

If Suffering Brought Wisdom, The Dentist's Office Would Be Full Of Luminous Ideas.

When My Beloved Arrives, I Yawn. When My Beloved Departs, I Weep.

I Would Like To Be A Figment Of My Own Imagination, But Belly And Bowels Will Not Permit.

My Father Was A Patriarch Inside A Matriarchy, But Never Knew It.

Hope, And Hopelessness, Persist Despite The Facts.