I Pressed Her Thigh And

The Time You Wait Subtracts The Joy The Heads The Angel You Destroy

I Offer Images-i Conjure Memories Of Freedom That Can Still Be Reached-like The Doors, Right? But We Can Only Open The Doors-we Can't Drag People Through.

Rather Than Starting Inside, I Start Outside And Reach The Mental Through The Physical.

In The Holy Solipsism Of The Young Now I Can't Walk Thru A City Street W/out Eying Each Single Pedestrian. I Feel Thier Vibe Thru My Skin, The Hair On My Neck --- It Rises.

I've Always Thought Comparisons Were Useless And Ugly. It Is A Short Cut To Thinking.