Silly Girls Your Heads Full

I Don't Want To Read What Is Going To Slide Down Easily; There Has To Be Some Crunch, A Certain Amount Of Resilience.

We Might Realize That The Present Moment May Be One Of An Eternal Or Sempiternal Series Of Moments, All Of Which Will Resemble It Because, In Some Ways, They Are The Present, And Won't In Other Ways, Because The Present Will Be The Past By That Time.

A Yak Is A Prehistoric Cabbage; Of That, We Can Be Sure.

I Don't Look On Poetry As Closed Works. I Feel They're Going On All The Time In My Head And I Occasionally Snip Off A Length.

You Stupefied Me. We Waxed, Carnivores, Late And Alight In The Beaded Winter. All Was Ominous, Luminous.