The Sky, At Sunset, Looked Like A

When You Die Of Sorrow It's As If You've Broken All The Bones In Your Body, Bruised Yourself All Over, Cracked Your Skull. That's Sorrow.

In The Current Socio-political Climate, He Said To Himself, Committing Suicide Is Absurd And Redundant. Better To Become An Undercover Poet.

One Should Read Borges More.

For Her, Reading Was Directly Linked To Pleasure, Not To Knowledge Or Enigmas Or Constructions Or Verbal Labyrinths.

Coincidence Obeys No Laws And If It Does We Don't Know What They Are. Coincidence, If You'll Permit Me The Simile, Is Like The Manifestation Of God At Every Moment On Our Planet. A Senseless God Making Senseless Gestures At His Senseless Creatures. In That Hurricane, In That Osseous Implosion, We Find Communion.