I Never Really Got Over

Now Every Mortal Has Pain And Sweat Is Constant, But If There Is Anything Dearer Than Being Alive, It's Dark To Me. We Humans Seem Disastrously In Love With This Thing (whatever It Is) That Glitters On The Earth-- We Call It Life. We Know No Other. The Underworld's A Blank And All The Rest Just Fantasy.

What Is The Fear Inside Language? No Accident Of The Body Can Make It Stop Burning.

You Can Never Know Enough, Never Work Enough, Never Use The Infinitives And Participles Oddly Enough, Never Impede The Movement Harshly Enough, Never Leave The Mind Quickly Enough.

To Be Running Breathlessly, But Not Yet Arrived, Is Itself Delightful, A Suspended Moment Of Living Hope.

I Never Really Got Over The Fun Of Making Letters.