The heart with letters on it shining like a light bulb through the trim hole painted in the chest, art history.

Don't be married to a line or verse if it can't rhyme, fit the meter, or doesn't fit the outline.

I feel despised there, for having so little money; also for once having had so much. I never actually had it, of course. Father had it, and then Richard. But money was imputed to me, the same way crimes are imputed to those who've simply been present at them.

I feel like the word shatter.

The future of the codex book, with pages and so forth? A platform for transmitting narratives. There are others.

We thought we were running away from the grownups, and now we are the grownups.

Here and there are worms, evidence of the fertility of the soil, caught by the sun, half dead; flexible and pink, like lips.