Bold move on my part.

This wall is not perfect.

Seek and find nothing.

The losers were costumed of course, as men of there best of times, they moved slow and steady to their there shelf of books, pretending they wrote most of them, and they had god like vision, but nobody there but them, alone in their rooms, on the phone.

Young man to age, big news!

If you have no body, no flowers will arrive.

If you have a pulse you can do more than feel her presense.

Not a cat.

Still my hero.

It is not a joke, and yet talking heads speak with talking hands, with new books and boxes of news. The reader dear reader is protesting for a good nights sleeps as words and images with messages make fury about nothing.

Can I make a better world today? Lord I try, but the world seems like a slug that is both drunk and stoned.

I have no lips, but I must kiss.

Not the wiskey, something better.

Like a pattern of faded colors on clothes, like blue tint from the sun light, and lakes that seem to shink, as a man thinks, war turns the second hand, for the third time, and on the forth a bell tolls.

We yearn for different islands, yet together in a palm tree we live like flightless birds that can not sing!

Her wind was visable and travelled over the hills of sorrow, a ghost like green glow, she had no body to show, but she shined bright in the sky, cruising with the little dipper, dripping ooze and stuff.

Panting on a pile of pillow, she had her way at last, finally concluded, the past was in the past.

Once upon a Paris, while I wander weak and lonely, I found a cafe for the losers, and sitting with my latte I gazed at some random face, relaxed and eating luxury, the night stars were coming, wishing me years of drunken sorrow.

Bring in the kittens!

I see magic!

New song: "Too Stupid for Love" to hit your ears soon.

When your ex wife holds you tight, don't let her break your ribs.

It was her breasts that made all the important decisions.

They call it the dark side because you can't see it with your eyes.