The Groom Is Like A Flower Of

New York Is Something Awful, Something Monstrous. I Like To Walk The Streets, Lost, But I Recognize That New York Is The World's Greatest Lie. New York Is Senegal With Machines.

The World Is A Shoulder Of Dark Meat (black Flesh Of An Old Mule). And The Light Is On The Other Side.

Oh Honey, There's Nothing New On This Earth When It Comes To What Men And Women Do In The Dark. First Love Is When You Learn. So You've Learned That Love Can Open You Up Like Spring Sun On A Wee Primrose. Good. Remember That. You Know How To Love.

The Duende....where Is The Duende? Through The Empty Archway A Wind Of The Spirit Enters, Blowing Insistently Over The Heads Of The Dead, In Search Of New Landscapes And Unknown Accents: A Wind With The Odour Of A Child's Saliva, Crushed Grass, And Medusa's Veil, Announcing The Endless Baptism Of Freshly Created Things.

Green How I Want You Green. Green Wind. Green Branches.