Let Us Not Fear The Hidden. Or

Let Us Not Fear The Hidden. Or Each Other.

Breathe-in Experience, Breathe-out Poetry.

The World Is Not Made Of Molecules, The World Is Made Of Stories.

I Am Haunted By Interrupted Acts, Introspective As A Leper, Enchanted By A Repulsive Clew, A Gross And Fugitive Movement Of The Limbs. Is This The Love That Shook The Lights To Flame?

Flight Is Intolerable Contradiction.