The Bees In My Stomach Are Dead

Sometimes Life Is Merely A Matter Of Coffee And Whatever Intimacy A Cup Of Coffee Affords.

I Drank Coffee And Read Old Books And Waited For The Year To End.

Your Catfish Friend If I Were To Live My Life In Catfish Forms In Scaffolds Of Skin And Whiskers At The Bottom Of A Pond And You Were To Come By One Evening When The Moon Was Shining Down Into My Dark Home And Stand There At The Edge Of My Affection And Think, “it's Beautiful Here By This Pond. I Wish Somebody Loved Me,” I'd Love You And Be Your Catfish Friend And Drive Such Lonely Thoughts From Your Mind And Suddenly You Would Be At Peace, And Ask Yourself, “i Wonder If There Are Any Catfish In This Pond? It Seems Like A Perfect Place For Them.

I Have Always Wanted To Write A Book That Ended With The Word 'mayonnaise.

Language Does Not Leave Fossils, At Least Not Until It Has Become Written.