Time Is The Speed At Which The

I Lost My Balance When The Train Pulled Away, But A Human Crumple Zone Buffered My Fall. We Stayed Like That, Half Fallen. Diagonal People.

Who Was Blowing On The Nape Of My Neck?

But No, We Cross, Crisscross, And Recross Our Old Tracks Like Figure Skaters.

The Act Of Memory Is An Act Of Ghostwriting.

Any Society's Upper-crust Is Riddled With Immorality, How Else D'you Think They Keep Their Power? Reputation Is King Of The Public Sphere, Not Private. It Is Dethroned By Public Acts.