Inauspicious comeback

We are drunk, loving lifelessness, fill each day with nightlong bluster. So contain what you can't create (contain it, that is, explain it: drain it of life). Drink wine with someone else's wife, raw steak tartare with your wit, your carving knife.

The approval I seek: my mind's eye's Everest peak. Blind to what I seek. Pride won't let me speak.

Don't name names or play blame games, lay in bed with collectors of strife. He loved her, and she swallowed his forboding incoherence, left him a beggar in heaven, silent and innocent.

Key to success: possess pretension to transcend daily drudgery -- never mind what a masterpiece monotony may make.

Insects are exalted somehow: silk from worms, jewels from bottom-feeders, diamonds from coal, gold from oil. (Are dinosaurs Catholic? We are the agents of their ascension, resurrecting fossil fuel corpses to inject into the stratosphere).

Don't mind me, while you drink coffee, quietly having a religious experience.

Grimly gathering dust by court order, my card-castle dictionary's writhing collapse. I'm still stupefied by bricks and mortar. How do buildings go up - who could plan that well? I know why they fall. A well-intentioned man pleases no one at all. What sticks gather Earth; what's lost in the entropy? Include unwritten notes from my latest symphony.

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