A yak is a prehistoric cabbage; of that, we can be sure.

Just when I thought there wasn't room enough for another thought in my head, I had this great idea—

Therefore bivouac we On this great, blond highway, unimpeded by Veiled scruples, worn conundrums. Morning is Impermanent. Grab sex things, swing up Over the horizon like a boy On a fishing expedition.

In the increasingly convincing darkness The words become palpable, like a fruit That is too beautiful to eat.

Most reckless things are beautiful in some way, and recklessness is what makes experimental art beautiful, just as religions are beautiful because of the strong possibilities that they are founded on nothing.

A perfect example of the new republic's urge to drape itself with the togas of classical respectability.

Expecting rain, the profile of a day Wears its soul like a hat.