The rich are buried in the church and everyone is rich and I am Rich


Mission Accomplished! Easy Whistle Solo and Privatising Parts.

Next on the agenda: The Impotence of Being and Somethingness and Fear of Novels.

The night lies in hovels.

And so I move my guts back to Kelburn,

And so I walk, barefoot at 3am past the four square.

And so my friends ask when I will or will not ensure that the Green card remains crisp.

Lord! I ask. Do you, or do you not, expect me to put up with lice? A common coincidence re: OTC&POHCTMAHYL and Baxter's 'Jerusalem Sonnets: Poems for Colin Baxter'.