light is an old acquaintancecome with a pick-axe into the cellara mad night-gown of silkI wear it as an experimentin walking uprighta private gamelet it fall where it willmore real than any answerthat nothing on the stage
To think they were back thereall that time someone saidmeaning the half-dozen snakesof three different speciesour bathroom remodeling project displacedbut my own thoughts kept dwellingon that huge nest of razor bladesin the wall where the mirror had beenWe propped up the roof and rippedthe bathroom walls outkeeping the fixtures intactso that the shower stallstood fully exposedto the breeze and blowing rainfor half that summerAh