It does not begin, it does not end. Never hear it start, never hear it stop. Ceaseless, present at every moment. This inner sound - an object of sense. With willpower we dominate, breathing at our will. Where we...

I slept beneatha mad hatter moon anddreamed of a big bluetarantula swimming ina yellow mosscovered pond. A ratterrier passed me a note:Mercy and lovearefleeting, they fade awaylike thetangerine sun; theyare lies likethe dead bulls undera bloody redSpanish sky.I asked...