To What Will Love Not Stoop!

The Sky Sinks In The Morning, This Fact Has Been Insufficiently Observed.

They Never Lynch Children, Babies, No Matter What They Do They Are Whitewashed In Advance.

The Whisky Bears A Grudge Against The Decanter.

I Lay Down Across Her With My Face In Her Breasts And My Hand On Her. We Lay There Without Moving. But Under Us All Moved, And Moved Us, Gently, Up And Down, And From Side To Side.

Abode Where Lost Bodies Roam Each Searching For Its Lost One.