Let Others Pride Themselves About How Many

Beyond My Anxiety, Beyond This Writing, The Universe Waits, Inexhaustible, Inviting.

Perhaps The Apparent Favor Of The Universe Is No More Than The Crocodile Grin Of A Doberman Breathing Hard And About To Be Hungry?

The Possibilities Of The Art Of Combination Are Not Infinite, But They Tend To Be Frightful.

Poetry Remembers That It Was An Oral Art Before It Was A Written Art.

What Will Die With Me The Day I Die? What Pathetic Or Frail Image Will Be Lost To The World? The Voice Of Macedonio Fernandez, The Image Of A Bay Horse In A Vacant Lot On The Corner Of Sarrano And Charcas, A Bar Of Sulfur In The Drawer Of A Mahogany Desk?