Sea & Fog

Blood is
no perfume
but in some
cities it
flows freely

“Did you, like me, die when you lost me?

To be is to have been and intending to be

I’m listening to something that wasn’t meant to be heard

Is making love mentally to a dead lover making love to death

We inhabit a terror we call life

A poem is an atom. Better to leave it alone. Who needs more nuclear explosions

A face, when looked at seriously, is terrifying

Fog operates like a drug: its presence means bliss; its absence is addiction not satisfied, a dreadful withdrawal

One can’t think without rememberin