Nothing but the darkness now. He wrote at the end of a long walk. The short pier? It is a dream, as all piers are.
It is a lotus, a torn jacket, a morning star. Jesus no longer fits so try something different. New? The universal blossom beckons.
As, for example, the long-awaited reckoning. The same old resistance, like a lover who's great in bed but can't talk Emily Dickinson after. Some habits die harder than others. One dies, one does.
And she remains ever a cumulative factor. The coffee boils, necessitating spoonfuls of sugar. Let's have a ball and biscuit indeed. Let's not circumnavigate now okay?
And so the sea remained their one home. Kittens become cats who beget kittens or so we learned at the shelter where so many of them were marked for death. More cookies and milk please! He stopped praying - where's your spiritual doo wop doo wop now boy - and it shows.