To live one’s life—Told you so, I told you so!—is commitment with a lock—so big. And when you swallow it, your breasts…become…warm.
Ha! Ah, yes.—A pinch or two of flake food—to the fish below.—And every time you raise the cover—gate to this thing—and light shines and they slow down, they think: “Oh, my gawd—is God—the God—merciful?”—Is as if someone reached into that pumpkin and removed all the seed.
Is morning and there’s a rooster in the barnyard—? A fox is being chased by pack of hounds and—every step—minuteness.
Remember Odysseus. To the—he says: I am nobody.