I Learn By Going Where I Have

Should We Say The Self, Once Perceived, Becomes The Soul?

Art Is The Means We Have Of Undoing The Damage Of Haste. It's What Everything Else Isn't.

What Is Desire?-- The Impulse To Make Someone Else Complete? That Woman Would Set Sodden Straw On Fire.

And What A Congress Of Stinks!- Roots Ripe As Old Bait, Pulpy Stems, Rank, Silo-rich, Leaf Mold, Manure, Lime, Piled Against Slippery Planks, Nothing Would Give Up Life: Even The Dirt Kept Breathing A Small Breath.

The Visible Exhausts Me. I Am Dissolved In Shadow.