trees, etc.
Get up, there’s a fire sale on!
Somewhere it’s summer
your shoes under the bed so you pray on your knees in the morning without even thinking
.
you tell me a story from thirty years ago
you asked a tramp what he was up to
he said, well I’m walking a few hours to give a man the five pence I owe him
world without end
The solution to drama is not more drama
Why are psychoanalysts so thin?
Do they eat their patients’ lack?
art is an act of revenge
contemplation sliced
you owe someone so much you can’t begin to pay them back
not five pence, not five minutes
if you don’t speak to someone they don’t exist
the dead are more alive than the abandoned
civilisation is sitting in a room talking about doodles of cocks
it’s not the beginning it’s the carrying on
thrill into repetition
calm was just the excitement we met along the way
a levity in not believing in structures
one must exit the universal to laugh at all
and the clouds are clouding about
and women are so wonderful, sometimes