its only humid in the afternoons...

elevated in stone. & rubble.

good god, this monologue is getting long.



to be sure, there is good
in everyone.



three out of ten ain't bad, especially when you're gunning for none.


it's all very weighty. exacting.


there's no end to the proverbial books and the day of one's dying



better than his birth.



exactly. copyright of the canon, and amen.


someday we're sure to see in the errant beauty of the night.



everyone. in everyone.



good god, what will become when it's one and
the
same.

let it ride out in the dusk, yes, only now in the dusk