Let Me Be Unambiguous. I Prefer Not

The Anarchist Is Dressed All In Black. In The Dark You Can Only See His Eyes. It Dates From The 1930's. Porky Pig Is A Little Boy. The Children Told Me That He Has A Nephew Now, Cicero. Do You Remember, During The War, When Porky Worked In A Defense Plant? He And Bugs Bunny. That Was A Good One Too.

Someday She Might Replace Whatever Of Her Had Gone Away By Some Prosthetic Device, A Dress Of A Certain Color, A Phrase In A Letter, Another Lover.

I Came," She Said, "hoping You Could Talk Me Out Of A Fantasy." Cherish It!" Cried Hilarious, Fiercely. "what Else Do Any Of You Have? Hold It Tightly By It's Little Tentacle, Don't Let The Freudians Coax It Away Or The Pharmacists Poison It Out Of You. Whatever It Is, Hold It Dear, For When You Lose It You Go Over By That Much To The Others. You Begin To Cease To Be.

All Investigations Of Time, However Sophisticated Or Abstract, Have At Their True Base The Human Fear Of Mortality.

But A Few Choosing To Venture Deeper Into The Painful Corridors Of Their Affliction, Found After A While That They Could Now Grind And Polish Ever More Exotic Surfaces, Hyperboloidial And Even Stranger, Eventually Including What We Must Term ‘imaginary’ Shapes (which Some Preferred To Term Invisible).