Not until it starts to stink does the inevitable happen.

until only infinity remained of beauty

The evening light was like honey in the trees When you left me and walked to the end of the street Where the sunset abruptly ended. The wedding-cake drawbridge lowered itself To the fragile forget-me-not flower. You climbed aboard. Burnt horizons suddenly paved with golden stones, Dreams I had, including suicide, Puff out the hot-air balloon now. It is bursting, it is about to burst

Once you've lived in France, you don't want to live anywhere else, including France.

The gray glaze of the past attacks all know-how...

I'm heading for a clean-named place like Wisconsin, and mad as a jack-o'-lantern, will get there without help and nosy proclivities.

I write with experiences in mind, but I don't write about them, I write out of them.