People Are Like Almanacs, Bonnie

Memories Should Be Sharp When One Has Nothing Else To Live For

There Seemed To Be Some Heavenly Support Beneath His Shoulder Blades That Lifted His Feet From The Ground In Ecstatic Suspension, As If He Secretly Enjoyed The Ability To Fly But Was Walking As A Compromise To Convention.

A Southern Moon Is A Sodden Moon, And Sultry. When It Swamps The Fields And The Rustling Sandy Roads And The Sticky Honeysuckle Hedges In Its Sweet Stagnation, Your Fight To Hold On To Reality Is Like A Protestation Against A First Waft Of Ether.

And, Joey, If You Ever Want To Know About The Japonicas And The Daisy Fields It Will Be Alright That You Have Forgotten Because I Will Be Able To Tell You About How It Felt To Be Feeling That Way You Cannot Quite Remember – That Will Be For The Time When Something Happens Years From Now That Reminds You Of Now.

It Is The Loose Ends With Which Men Hang Themselves.