He Was Trying To Fit This Herakles

I've Come To Understand That The Best One Can Hope For As A Human Is To Have A Relationship With That Emptiness Where God Would Be If God Were Available, But God Isn't.

That Night We Made Love "the Real Way" Which We Had Not Yet Attempted Although Married Six Months. Big Mystery. No One Knew Where To Put Their Leg And To This Day I'm Not Sure We Got It Right. He Seemed Happy. You're Like Venice He Said Beautifully. Early Next Day I Wrote A Short Talk ("on Defloration") Which He Stole And Had Published In A Small Quarterly Magazine. Overall This Was A Characteristic Interaction Between Us. Or Should I Say Ideal. Neither Of Us Had Ever Seen Venice.

No Need To Fear Death. There Will Be A Tunnel And Light.

Lava Bread Makes You Passionate.

All Myth Is An Enriched Pattern, A Two-faced Proposition, Allowing Its Operator To Say One Thing And Mean Another, To Lead A Double Life. Hence The Notion Found Early In Ancient Thought That All Poets Are Liars. And From The True Lies Of Poetry Trickled Out A Question. What Really Connects Words And Things?