Looking back across the years, so many pictures flash on the screen of my memory that just as I begin to see one clearly, another slides in, blotting out the first, itself to be pushed aside by the next and the next and the next. ↗
L. A. is crazy. The women all look the same now. That thing with the cheeks. Like Madonna. Who do they think they're fooling? It doesn't make them look young. You end up looking like a freak. ↗
Here, I am looking for a document issued by a public attorney. I don't find. He is accused by the political leaders of the coalition, by his enemies, who said that he is guilty. That he deserves to be killed. ↗
In a way you can feel that the poet actually is looking over your shoulder, and you say to yourself, now, how would this go for him? Would this do or not? ↗