I look for the boy we met inside the club, the one who claimed he loved playing with matches, setting fire to churches. I spot him smoking a cigarette, standing so cool against the side of the club, like he might be the nephew of some Viking guitarist hun

We want our lives even-cut, …

I bought some charlatan art / and hung it on the wall

Of arms and the man...

Born, he stood up. He wore nothing as often as possible

His work was done. For sixty years, beginning soon after his seventeenth birthday, he had listened to the gods- good, bad, somewhere in between-

["This is not a snippet of text. This is only a test."]

How her camisole strap falls, her bare shoulder, her tattooed arm like an old, Coney Island mural. That dream she had: I bought her a fake, diamond necklace in Manhattan. She wanted to kiss me in the alley but was afraid of the rats

Alessandro was no ordinary demon (what demon is?), insofar as he had Constable Pulce's number. In demonly fashion he had Pulce's number in a way Pulce himself did not.

And because the film is French, the camera pauses / long moments at the curve of her neck, it watches/ her finger vermilion tulips in a vase. Her new lover,/ a wisp of a man, looks good in leather./ The camera pans quickly across beige suede,/ rests long

The cabin has windows all around, like ribbon tying a birthday present.

That morning, four children appeared in front of the train, which was ready to depart

In Your Absence the yard-cat, Flower, has started sleeping on top of the fridge

I can confirm nothing/ but impressions of the world// that appear beyond my/ body’s reach.