Words Bounce. Words, If You

The Beloved's Innocence Brutalizes The Lover. As The Singing Of A Mad Person Behind You On The Train Enrages You, Its Beautiful Animal-like Teeth Shining Amid Black Planes Of Paint. As Helen Enrages History. Senza Uscita.

It Takes Practice To Shave The Skin Off The Light.

I Am Kind Of A Curmudgeonly Person, So I Don't Gravitate To Groups Or Traditions, Which Is Probably Just Pretentious Of Me.

A Refugee Population Is Hungry For Language And Aware That Anything Can Happen.

Now Every Mortal Has Pain And Sweat Is Constant, But If There Is Anything Dearer Than Being Alive, It's Dark To Me. We Humans Seem Disastrously In Love With This Thing (whatever It Is) That Glitters On The Earth-- We Call It Life. We Know No Other. The Underworld's A Blank And All The Rest Just Fantasy.