There Is Light Somewhere.

A Day Of Minor Profit Or Prophet Led To A Night Of Drunkenness.

I Am A Poem. There Is No Way Out.

Maybe When I Get In The Grave, Things Will Be Beautiful.

I Like The Way Mahler Wandered About In His Music And Still Retained His Passion. He Must Have Looked Like An Earthquake Walking Down The Street.

When I Was A Boy I Used To Dream Of Becoming The Village Idiot. I Used To Lie In Bed And Imagine Myself The Happy Idiot Able To Get Food Easily ...and Easy Sympathy, A Planned Confusion Of Not Too Much Love Or Effort. Some Would Claim That I Have Succeeded.