What Would It Be Like To Live

Blessed Be They Whose Lives Do Not Taste Of Evilbut If Some God Shakes Your Houseruin Arrivesruin Does Not Leaveit Comes Tolling Over The Generationsit Comes Rolling The Black Night Salt Up From The Ocean Floorand All Your Thrashed Coasts Groan

Caught Between The Tongue And The Taste.

Here We Go Mother On The Shipless Ocean. Pity Us, Pity The Ocean, Here We Go.

You Can Get Used To Eating Breakfast With A Man In A Fedora. You Can Get Used To Anything, My Mother Was In The Habit Of Saying.

Maybe I Could Have Been Good As A Drawer If I Had Done It As Much As I Did Writing, But It's More Scary To Draw. It's More Revealing. You Can't Disguise Yourself In Drawing.