Ah Those Knock-out Body Fluids: Blood, Sperm,

Repudiating The Virtues Of Your World, Criminals Hopelessly Agree To Organize A Forbidden Universe. They Agree To Live In It. The Air There Is Nauseating. They Can Breathe It.

...the Characters In My Books All Resemble Each Other. They Live, With Minor Variations, The Same Moments, The Same Perils, And When I Speak Of Them, My Language, Which Is Inspired By Them, Repeats The Same Poems In The Same Tone.

Every Premeditated Murder Is Always Governed By A Preparatory Ceremonial And Is Always Followed By A Propitiatory Ceremonial. The Meaning Of Both Eludes The Murderers Mind.

The Force Of What Was Called Panther Rhetoric Or Word Mongering Resided Not In Elegant Discourse But In Strength Of Affirmation (or Denial), In Anger Of Tone And Timbre. When The Anger Led To Action There Was No Turgidity Or Over-emphasis. Anyone Who Has Witnessed Political Rows Among The Whites Will Have To Admit That The Whites Aren't Overburdened With Poetic Imagination.

They Spent Their Time Doing Nothing... They Let Intimacy Fuse Them.