You Are What You Think About All

In My Dreams You Walk Dripping From A Sea Journey On The Highway Across America In Tears To The Door Of My Cottage In The Western Night

Mind Is Shapely, Art Is Shapely.

That's What The Shaman Said. He Didn't Know What He Was Up Against. He Didn't Expect The Strength And Weight And Evil Intensity Of This Spirit, This "entity," As He Called It. The Same Way The Priest In An Exorcism Has To Take On The Spirit.

Who Burned Cigarette Holes In Their Arms Protesting The Narcotic Tobacco Haze Of Capitalism

We Are Great Writers On The Same Dreadful Typewriter