He looked like an angelic little boy who had been kicked out of his orphanage for failing to take part in group masturbation. - Charles Wright

Snub end of a dismal year,
deep in the dwarf orchard,
The sky with its undercoat of blackwash and point stars,
I stand in the dark and answer to
My life, this shirt I want to take off,
which is on fire . . .

The life of this world is wind
Windblown we come, and windblown we go away.
All that we look on is windfall.
All we remember is wind.

"Waterfalls"

Is it age, is it lack of adoration, is it
Regret there’s no ladder to the clouds?
Whatever, we inhabit the quotidian, as we must,
While somewhere behind our backs,
waterfalls tumble and keep on going
Into the deep desire of distance.