I Like To See Life With Its

I Had A Cousin Once Who Lived In Your Dictionary, Inside The Binding, And There Was A Tiny Hole Which He Used For A Door, And It Led Out Between Trichotomy And Trick. Now What Do You Think Of That? It Was Only A Few Minutes Walk To Trigger, Then Over The Page To Trinity, Trinket And Trional, And There My Cousin Used To Fall Asleep.

From The First Place Of Liquid Darkness, Within The Second Place Of Air And Light, I Set Down The Following Record With Its Mixture Of Fact And Truths And Memories Of Truths And Its Direction Toward The Third Place, Where The Starting Point Is Myth.

Possibility Was Not A Bag Or Box That Could Be Closed And Sealed, It Was A Vast Open Chute Which Received Everything, Everything; One Could Not Choose Or Direct Or Destroy The Powerful Flow Of Possibility.

It Is Always Hard To Believe That The Will To Change Something Does Not Produce An Immediate Change.

So We Went To Bed, Assaulted By Sleep That Fumed At Us From Medicine Glasses, Or Was Wielded From Small Sweet-coated Tablets -- Dainty Bricks Of Dream Wrapped In The Silk Stockings Of Oblivion.