a poem for today, 2 May 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of six sentences and its image]
The phobic rests before the veil and wonders what's behind it so as to continue to ignore what he knows not to have seen, which is nothing.
The bottom line is that the human species has to realize the human body is really just a cheap suitcase.
It's like you're reaching a critical mass.
The first human who hurled an insult instead of a stone was the founder of civilization.
If you can't spot the sucker in your first half hour at the table, then you are the sucker.
The dispossessed of history are not guided by method but by madness.
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