Permit Me Voyage, Love, Into Your Hands.

Let My Lusts Be My Ruin, Then, Since All Else Is A Fake And A Mockery.

One Must Be Drenched In Words, Literally Soaked In Them, To Have The Right Ones Form Themselves Into The Proper Pattern At The Right Moment.

The Fact That The Bridge Contains Folk Lore And Other Material Suitable To The Epic Form Need Not Therefore Prove Its Failure As A Long Lyric Poem, With Interrelated Sections.

Love: A Burnt Match Skating In A Urinal.

Goodbye, Everybody! (suicide Note)