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It has its life, returning always to the ocean. It doesn’t care.

Oh, won’t you lie here darling whistlepigs, here, curled at my side?

The specimen, a man oblivious, is beautiful to behold, perfect, enough.

For who can escape one’s twenties or browser history?

I only divine the cat’s location when I hear its small cough.

Phaethon thought he could drive the sun but was struck down to earth.

There was one lease Homer Young wanted above all others.

Not a single environmentalist holds out much hope for the future.

Abe shot himself, first year out of high school. Assholes said he was queer.

You quickly find nothing interests people so much as themselves.

If you’re not having fun, then there isn’t a big impetus to stay alive.

Einstein postulated that space and time sit neatly on the same fabric

Some asshole on a joyride in the outback runs her down, the emu.

Doctor Dressler left her a note: Suicide. Back by 7:00. Love, Max.

I sometimes have to laugh because even now, as a middle-aged man.

You are with outsized footnotes that have tracked across the Internet.

How do wheels and wind-trash weave us into wakefulness?

Indifferent day. Sparrow fretting for rain gathers grass and seeds.

The danger was my own carelessness, and now I was waist deep in it.

I don’t remember being born, only the great dog whose fur I clung to.

Of what use, other than to the butterfly, are a butterfly’s wings?

I played a game I called ocean, resisted my need for air.

The roads have come to an end now, they don’t go any farther.

The clock kept ticking, and the investors bailed out one by one.

It takes you more than ten thousand years to orbit the sun.

Whales are very big (I saw one on a beach once) but trash is way bigger.

A Midwestern man is never without his knife. Half of us carry guns.

I was created in His image I had dominion over every thing

A plastic Kroger’s bag caught in the chinking—Spelter’s only banner.

Death will come for us so fast we will never be able to outrun it.