Slowly, Slowly, Catch The Monkey.

Nothing Stinks Like A Pile Of Unpublished Writing.

You've Only Got So Long To Live.

Cold Glass, How You Insert Yourself Between Myself And Myself. I Scratch Like A Cat. The Blood That Runs Is Dark Fruit- An Effect, A Cosmetic. You Smile. No, It Is Not Fatal.

I Have No Preconceptions. Whatever I See, I Swallow Immediately. Just As It Is, Unmisted By Love Or Dislike. I Am Not Cruel, Only Truthful.

There Is No Life Higher Than The Grasstops