All that matters is that the thing be the thing of the thing.
I'm sorry, but I was born with a towel on my head.
O.K. I'm running out of appetite. Let this swirl- a bit like Crab Nebula- do for now.
This morning of the small snow I count the blessings, the leak in the faucet which makes of the sink time, the drop of the water on water.
An American is a complex of occasions, themselves a geometry of spatial nature.
There are no hierarchies, no infinite, no such many as mass, there are only/ eyes in all heads,/ to be looked out of.