the mushrooms disappeared. / It happened gradually, / over maybe thirty years. / And now, when I recall / their disappearance, their “departure,” / it seems like one grand movement, / like — the hushing / of one very long orchestra...

Let's just say you have a choice. / You have a choice whether to be born or not to be born? / Who wouldn't say, all right, then, I'll be born.

I am Eddie Murphy / I am snorting cocaine off of tanned Italian backsides / While ten young men / Suck my gigantic dick / For two hundred hours

When we reach the exit I see that the baby is disfigured. I don’t care. I don’t care about anything or anyone. That’s why we will survive. I have never been so powerful.

Throw down / from your window the broken lamp. / And throw from your window bewildering light. / Lie down and sleep on the emerald bed / beneath the abortive flower.

One is able to engage a room in one of two ways: / as a read surface, / or as the Yes-And-No Tunnel. / The Yes-And-No Tunnel is not really a tunnel. / It has no entrance and no exit. / It only gets wider in every direction...

I run down the street and find the top part of the stroller. Filled with dread, I turn the stroller basket over. Inside are those three terrible babies, unharmed.