It’s Not The Word Made Flesh We

How Do We Know, Then, When A Code's Been Cracked?when We Are Right?when Do We Know If We Have Even Received A Message? Why, Naturally, When, Upon One Set Of Substitutions, Sense Emerges Like The Outline Under A Rubbing; When A Single Tentative Construal Leads To Several; When All The Sullen Letters Of The Code Cry Team! After Yea! Has Been, By Several Hands, Uncovered.

It Art Can Only Succeed Through The Cooperating Imagination And Intelligence Of Its Consumers, Who Fill Out, For Themselves, The Artist's World And Make It Round, And Whose Own Special Genius Partly Determine The Ultimate Glory Of It.

If You Were A Fully Realized Person-whatever The Hell That Would Be-you Wouldn't Fool Around Writing Books.

The Body Of Our Saviour Shat But Our Saviour Shat Not.

My Face Is Muffled In My Mother's Clothing. Her Rhinestones Injure Me. See: My Feet Are Going. Fish Flee The Forefinger Of My Aunt. The Sun Streams Over The Geraniums. What Has This To Do With What I Feel, With What I Am.