Any Memory For The Most Part Depending

My Age Fallen Away Like White Swaddling Floats In The Middle Distance, Becomes An Inhabited Cloud.

The Chromatic Scale Is What You Use To Give The Effect Of Drinking A Quinine Martini And Having An Enema Simultaneously.

Slowly Light Strengthens, And The Room Takes Shape. It Stands Plain As A Wardrobe, What We Know, Have Always Known, Know That We Can't Escape, Yet Can't Accept. One Side Will Have To Go. Meanwhile Telephones Crouch, Getting Ready To Ring In Locked-up Offices, And All The Uncaring Intricate Rented World Begins To Rouse. The Sky Is White As Clay, With No Sun. Work Has To Be Done. Postmen Like Doctors Go From House To House.

You Can't Put Off Being Young Until You Retire.

Life Has A Practice Of Living You, If You Don't Live It.