Every Weirdo In The World Is On

He Gazes Through Sunlight's Buttresses, Back Down The Refectory At The Others, Wallowing In Their Plenitude Of Bananas, Thick Palatals Of Their Hunger Lost Somewhere In The Stretch Of Morning Between Them And Himself. A Hundred Miles Of It, So Suddenly. Solitude, Even Among The Meshes Of This War, Can When It Wishes So Take Him By The Blind Gut And Touch, As Now, Possessively. Pirate's Again Some Other Side Of A Window, Watching Strangers Eat Breakfast.

For Every Kind Of Vampire, There Is A Kind Of Cross

Can't Say It Often Enough — Change Your Hair, Change Your Life.

A Woman Is Only Half Of Something There Are Usually Two Sides To.

Oh, This Beer Here Is Cold, Cold And Hop-bitter, No Point Coming Up For Air, Gulp, Till It's All--hahhhh.