His Lips Drink Water But His Heart

Suppose Life Is An Old Man Carrying Flowers On His Head.

Really Unreal World, Will You Perhaps Do The Breathing For Me While I Am Away?

The Mind Is Its Own Beautiful Prisoner. Mind Looked Long At The Sticky Moon Opening In Dusk Her New Wings Then Decently Hanged Himself,one Afternoon. The Last Thing He Saw Was You Naked Amid Unnaked Things.

Knowledge Is A Polite Word For Dead But Not Buried Imagination.

What Time Is It? It Is By Every Star A Different Time, And Each Most Falsely True.