I Am A Worker, A Tombstone Mason,

If There Is Any Difficulty In What I Write, It Is Because Of The Material I Use. The Thought Is Always Simple.

The Heaventree Of Stars Hung With Humid Nightblue Fruit.

I Think I Would Know Nora's Fart Anywhere. I Think I Could Pick Hers Out In A Roomful Of Farting Women.

Very Gratefully, With Grateful Appreciation, With Sincere Appreciative Gratitude, In Appreciatively Grateful Sincerity Of Regret, He Declined.

Though Their Life Was Modest, They Believed In Eating Well.