Stupidity has a price and it always gets paid.

We are all eaters of souls.

We are not the only avatars of humanity. Once our computing machines achieved self-consciousness, they became part of this design.

It no longer matters who consider themselves the masters of events. Events no longer obey their masters.

Poetry is only secondarily about words. Primarily, it is about truth. I dealt with the Ding an Sich, the substance behind the shadow, weaving powerful concepts, similes, and connections the way an engineer would raise a skyscraper with the whiskered-alloy skeleton being constructed long before the glass and plastic and chromaluminum appears.

Mobs have passions, not brains.

Doing a life study while drunk and in the process of being seduced is never a formula for quality art.