Cannibals Prefer Those Who Have

I Never Loved Totalitarianism And All The Ideas Of Making Mankind Happy Always Seemed Crazy To Me.

Come, Let Us Hasten To A Higher Plane, Where Dyads Tread The Fairy Fields Of Venn, Their Indices Bedecked From One To _ N, Commingled In An Endless Markov Chain!

So One Must Be Resigned To Being A Clock That Measures The Passage Of Time, Now Out Of Order, Now Repaired, And Whose Mechanism Generates Despair And Love As Soon As Its Maker Sets It Going? Are We To Grow Used To The Idea That Every Man Relives Ancient Torments, Which Are All The More Profound Because They Grow Comic With Repetition? That Human Existence Should Repeat Itself, Well And Good, But That It Should Repeat Itself Like A Hackneyed Tune, Or A Record A Drunkard Keeps Playing As He Feeds Coins Into The Jukebox.

It Is Not Good For A Man To Be Too Cognizant Of His Physical And Spiritual Mechanisms. Complete Knowledge Reveals Limits To Human Possibilities, And The Less A Man Is By Nature Limited In His Purposes, The Less He Can Tolerate Limits.

I See A Poem As A Multi-coloured Strip Behind Peeling Plaster, In Separate, Shining Fragments.