Love has many homonyms
——I dont know anyone but myself
——& the images I make of others.
All images are hallucinations & all love self-love.
——Sex is masturbation with yrself.
I keep expecting to see her car disappeared.
But then I never expected she’d come.
In the beginning was the Note, and it divided
the silence into Rhythm.
——Anyway, sometimes you’re more in love
——with the idea of someone than the person
——in the flesh.
‘Stop patting me on the back.’
——If you stop having sex with someone
——you once romanced, you are lying to
——say ‘I love you,’ or at least not
——recognizing that it’s a homonym
——for the former thing.
Watching her dance makes me want to
have sex with life.
The worst you can do is fail,
and that wont leave you worse off.
Gentle mist from high-window
pressure washing floats down
on overcast pedestrians.
——I’m terrified of the day I wake
——up excited that everything makes
——sense because then I’ll know I’ve
You can learn a lot about a man’s
life from his parrot. (Never let
the fire alarm battery start to die.)