And the Hippos were boiled in their tanks!

What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.

Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.

Down in Denver, all I did was die.

Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea.

Will you love me in December as you do in May?

Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind.