The Summer Demands And Takes

The Ellipse Is As Aimless As That, Stretching Invisibly Into The Future So As To Reappear In Our Present. Its Flexing Is Its Account, Return To The Point Of No Return.

I Listen To Music A Great Deal. In A Way, It's Trying To Express Things That Can't Be Expressed In Words. That's Something That Interests Me, Too. Even Though I Use Words To Express Myself, I Am Trying To, It Seems To Me, Get Beyond That.

The Sun Fades Like The Spreading Of A Peacock's Tail, As Though Twilight Might Be Read As A Warning To Those Desperate For Easy Solutions.

I Often Wonder If I Am Suffering From Some Mental Dysfunction Because Of How Weird And Baffling My Poetry Seems To So Many People And Sometimes To Me Too.

The Soul Is Not A Soul, Has No Secret, Is Small, And It Fits Its Hollow Perfectly: Its Room, Our Moment Of Attention.