Pronunciation Has Made Many An Innocent Word

We Grew Up Founding Our Dreams On The Infinite Promise Of American Advertising. I Still Believe That One Can Learn To Play The Piano By Mail And That Mud Will Give You A Perfect Complexion.

We Walked At Night Towards A Cafe Blooming With Japanese Lanterns And I Followed Your White Shoes Gleaming Like Radium In The Damp Darkness. Rising Off The Water, Lights Flickered An Invitation Far Enough Away To Be Interpreted As We Liked; To Shimmer Glamourously Behind The Silhouette Of Retrospective Good Times When We Still Believed In Summer Hotels And The Philosophies Of Popular Songs.

It Is The Loose Ends With Which Men Hang Themselves.

I Don't Want To Live. I Want To Love First, And Live Incidentally.

A Southern Moon Is A Sodden Moon, And Sultry. When It Swamps The Fields And The Rustling Sandy Roads And The Sticky Honeysuckle Hedges In Its Sweet Stagnation, Your Fight To Hold On To Reality Is Like A Protestation Against A First Waft Of Ether.