War of the Foxes

—all these ghosts

come streaming down and sometimes I wish I had

something else.

The world doesn’t know

what to do with my love. Because it isn’t used to

being loved. It’s a framework problem. Disheartening?

Obviously. I hope it’s love. I’m trying really hard

to make it love.

If you don’t believe in the world it would be

stupid to paint it. If you don’t believe in God, then who

are you talking to

He is inside his body

and I am inside my body and it matters less and less

It isn’t

fair, the depth of my looking, the threat of my

looking

Some say God is where we put our sorrow. God says, Which one of you fuckers can get to me first

Let me tell you a story about war. A man says to another man, Can I tell you something? The other man says, No. A man says to another man, There is something I have to tell you. No, says the other man. No, you don’t.

A man with a bandage is in the middle of something.

Everyone understands this. Everyone wants a battlefield.

Red. And a little more red.

What is alive and what isn’t and what should we do about it? Theories: about the nature of the thing. And of the soul. Because people die. The fear: that nothing survives. The greater fear: that something does

If I fell through the floor

I would keep falling