The Phrase I Like To Use To

The Memory Of My Father Is Wrapped Up In White Paper, Like Sandwiches Taken For A Day Of Work. Just As A Magician Takes Towers And Rabbits Out Of His Hat, He Drew Love From His Small Body.

I Wanted To Be Calm, Like A Mound With All Its Cities Destroyed, And Tranquil, Like A Full Cemetery.

Tonight I Think Again Of Many Days That Are Sacrificed For One Night Of Love. Of The Waste And The Fruit Of The Waste, Of Plenty And Of Fire. And How Painlessly-time.

Love Is Like A Reservoir Of Kindness And Pleasure, Like Silos And Pools During A Siege.

I Think The End Is Endless. It's Either A Big Black Hole Or A Big White Light Or Both Together. But It's Totally Meaningless, Because Even If Someone Would Explain It, I Wouldn't Understand It.