Like Contemporary Poetry, Philosophy Is One Of

The Past Is What Makes Now Like Now Makes Tomorrow.

There Is A Hollow, Holey Cylinder Running From Hilt To Point In My Machete. When I Blow Across The Mouthpiece In The Handle, I Make Music With My Blade. When All The Holes Are Covered, The Sound Is Sad, As Rough As Rough Can Be And Be Called Smooth. When All The Holes Are Open, The Sound Pipes About, Bringing To The Eye Flakes Of Sun On Water, Crushed Metal. There Are Twenty Holes. And Since I've Been Playing Music, I've Been Called All Different Kinds Of Fool - More Times Than Lobey, Which Is My Name.

The Pleasures Of Love Are Really Quite Wonderful--though I Suspect They Are Rather A Luxury And Require A Certain Level Of Socioeconomic Stability To Be Anything Other Than A Mode Of Suffering.

What You Are Will Make You What You Will Become.

Suggestion Is A Literary Strategy.