I want very much to be back in the caul, on my back in the dark forever.
In the landscape of extinction, precision is next to godliness.
As it is with the love of the body, so with the friendship of the mind, the full is only reached by admittance to the most retired places.
Light black. From pole to pole.
All poetry, as discriminated from the various paradigms of prosody, is prayer.
If I had the use of my body, I would throw it out the window.