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Radio operators in cubicles are responding in trajectory missiles of desire legions of spark plugs running up and down my arms. Behold my personal Frankenstein in life
cold dead and clammy.
I wish I knew him well when he was dead, the living are so convoluted. Always talking their ways into a desert salivating for water, salivating for bread, salivating for any old inane comfort. Froth hound …
My friend Moxy loves the taste of Opera in her mouth. She took a course this past semester to further tickle her tonsils. She has no delusions of ever becoming a famous Opera singer, herself. She believes only in the pure experience and practice of the art for enjoyment. However, the conundrum that has
roosted on her laugh lines recently is this: that indulging in an art personally, without aspiration, is impractical and unnecessary. …