Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.
God has a brown voice, as soft and full as beer.
Perhaps I am no one. True, I have a body and I cannot escape from it. I would like to fly out of my head, but that is out of the question.
I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.
Abundance is scooped from abundance yet abundance remains.
Being kissed on the back of the knee is a moth at the windowscreen.