A Man Moves Through Time.

I Never Had Much Education In English Poetry As Such.

I Never Really Got Over The Fun Of Making Letters.

Life Pulls Softly Inside Your Bindings. The Pod Glows - Dear Stench.

Comfortable Means Gradually More And More Flattened Down, More And More Blunt - Less And Less Sharp And Biting Into You.

That Night We Made Love "the Real Way" Which We Had Not Yet Attempted Although Married Six Months. Big Mystery. No One Knew Where To Put Their Leg And To This Day I'm Not Sure We Got It Right. He Seemed Happy. You're Like Venice He Said Beautifully. Early Next Day I Wrote A Short Talk ("on Defloration") Which He Stole And Had Published In A Small Quarterly Magazine. Overall This Was A Characteristic Interaction Between Us. Or Should I Say Ideal. Neither Of Us Had Ever Seen Venice.