there's no forsaking what you love no existential leap as witnessed here in time and blood a thousand kisses deep

Well I am the one who loves changing from nothing to one.

Shouldering your loneliness like a gun that you will not learn to aim, you stumble into this movie house then you climb, you climb into the frame.

I'm neither left or right. I'm just staying home tonight, getting lost in that hopeless little screen.

I always considered myself a minor writer. My province is small, and I try to explore it very, very thoroughly.

In Montreal spring is like an autopsy. Everyone wants to see the inside of the frozen mammoth. Girls rip off their sleeves and the flesh is sweet and white, like wood under green bark. From the streets a sexual manifesto rises like an inflating tire, “the winter has not killed us again!

Fare thee well my nightingale, I lived but to be near you. Thow you are singing somewhere still I can no longer hear you.