Call me Heat Miser. Some years ago–never mind how long precisely–
having little or no money and nothing at all particular to interest me,

the sky’s ashes still dry upon my lips drawn back in a rictus that
you’ll recognize from such films as “Grinning Koala” and “Fuck!

That Was One Bad Caesura!” I smoked in the dimness of winter
watching Lake Erie harden with diaphanous ridges. That viral message

will start pounding on them pretty heavy. The same hue is made the emblem
of many touching, noble things – the innocence of bribes, the maligned age,

negligence celibate among a mournful lullaby you’ll recognize from such films
as “Other Religious Traditions” and “I Don’t Believe It’s Gonna Be The End

Of The World” and “Moonwalking Backwards for an Answer”. Your nobility
touches me. I’m calling the cops. A man who from his humorous, deliberate

coolness and equanimity in the direst emergencies can espouse a western
viewpoint is cut in half by the window. I totally agree with Marshall

on the fact. I water plumes that sully your magnificent treachery. There are rocks
in Japan whose magnetic fields were reversed and visually numbing. Let there

be rock, and let us examine our own sedimentary deposits or cooled volcanic flows.
I’m actually just going to echo what Marshall is saying. I’m too much!