I Have No Interest In Understanding Sheep,

In Her Way, She Was A Hard One. Faith In Any Sort Of Natural Justice Was Nothing But A Night Light; She Knew Of That. Whatever She Did, She Would End The Same Way With Everyone Does: Flat On Her Back With A Tube In Her Nose, Wondering, "is This All?

What Do You Look At While You’re Making Up Your Mind? Ours Is Not A Reflective Culture, We Do No Raise Our Eyes Up To The Hills. Most Of The Time We Decide The Critical Things While Looking At The Linoleum Floor Of An Institutional Corridor, Or Whispering Hurriedly In A Waiting Room With A Television Blatting Nonsense.

Back At His Chair He Cannot Remember What He Was Reading. He Feels The Books Beside Him To Find The One That Is Warm.

The Worm That Destroys You Is The Temptation To Agree With Your Critics, To Get Their Approval.

I Would Not Have Had That Happen To You. Discourtesy Is Unspeakably Ugly To Me.