The Body Of Our Saviour Shat But

Freud Thought That A Psychosis Was A Waking Dream, And That Poets Were Daydreamers Too, But I Wonder If The Reverse Is Not As Often True, And That Madness Is A Fiction Lived In Like A Rented House

We Converse As We Live By Repeating, By Combining And Recombining A Few Elements Over And Over Again Just As Nature Does When Of Elementary Particles It Builds A World.

I Do Think Of My Reader, Or Listener, Really, More Often, If I Give A Lecture, For Example, And I Know That I'm Talking To These People; I Enjoy Sort Of Preening Them A Bit. But It's A Matter Of Decorum, Basically.

So If Hunger Provokes Wailing And Wailing Brings The Breast; If The Breast Permits Sucking And Milk Suggests Its Swallow; If Swallowing Issues In Sleep And Stomachy Comfort, Then Need, Ache, Message, Object, Act, And Satisfaction Are Soon Associated Like Charms On A Chain; Shortly Our Wants Begin To Envision The Things Which Well Reduce Them, And The Organism Is Finally Said To Wish.

The True Alchemists Do Not Change Lead Into Gold; They Change The World Into Words.