But Remember When I Moved In You

Except For A Couple Of Hours In The Morning Which I Passed In The Company Of A Sage I Stayed In Bed Without Food Only A Few Mouthfuls Of Water “you Are A Fine Looking Old Man” I Said To Myself In The Mirror “and What Is More You Have The Correct Attitude You Don’t Care If It Ends Or If It Goes On And As For The Women And The Music There Will Be Plenty Of That In Paradise” Then I Went To The Mosque Of Memory To Express My Gratitude

Do Not Believe The Truth. The Truth Is Tiny Compared To What You Have To Do.

I Am Running Through A Snowfall Which Is Her Thighs, He Dramatized In Purple. Her Thighs Are Filling Up The Street. Wide As A Snowfall, Heavy As Huge Falling Zeppelins, Her Damp Thighs Are Settling On The Sharp Roofs And Wooden Balconies. Weather-vanes Press The Shape Of Roosters And Sail-boats Into The Skin. The Faces Of Famous Statues Are Preserved Like Intaglios.

I Won't Comment On What Bob Dylan Said, But I Will Comment On His Receiving The Nobel Prize, Which To Me Is Like Pinning A Medal On Mount Everest For Being The Highest Mountain.

When You're Younger, You Do Have That Thing That You Were Talking About Where The Mouth Goes Dry. I Mean You Have Reactions, And You Do Fall In Love.