You Have To Know How To Look

The Diseased, Anyway, Are More Interesting Than The Healthy. The Words Of The Diseased, Even Those Who Can Manage Only A Murmur, Carry More Weight Than Those Of The Healthy. Then, Too, All Healthy People Will In The Future Know Disease. That Sense Of Time, Ah, The Diseased Man’s Sense Of Time, What Treasure Hidden In A Desert Cave. Then, Too The Diseased Truly Bite, Whereas The Healthy Pretend To Bite But Really Only Snap At The Air. Then, Too, Then, Too, Then, Too.

The American Mirror, Said The Voice, The Sad American Mirror Of Wealth And Poverty And Constant Useless Metamorphosis, The Mirror That Sails And Whose Sails Are Pain.

Bright Colours In The West, Giant Butterflies Dancing As Night Crept Like A Cripple Toward The East.

Poetry And Prison Have Always Been Neighbors.

The Moon Is Fat And The Night Air Is So Pure It Seems Edible.