If The Current Is Right, One Can

As The Tenor Roars His Passion, I Think Sadly Of My Spreading Middle, And His.

I Can Imagine Many Things, But Few Clearly.

I Dream Of Summing Everything Up In The Greatest Sentence Ever Written.

I Am Kept In Bondage By The Moles Of My Beloved.

No Chaos, No Creation. Evidence: The Kitchen At Mealtime.