I want everything.
Everything is a naked thought that strikes.
A foghorn sounding through fog makes the fog seem to
Quail eggs eaten from the hand in fog make everything
My husband shrugs when I say so, my husband shrugs at
The lakes where his factory has poisoned everything are as
beautiful as Bruegel.
I keep my shop, in order that I may sell everything there, empty
but I leave the light on.
Everything might spill.
Do you know that in the deepest part of the sea everything goes
transparent? asks my husband’s friend
Corrado and I say Do you know how afraid I am?
Everything requires attention, I never relax my neck even when
Kant says “everything” exists only in our mind, attended by a
motion of pleasure and
pain that throws itself back and forth in me when I lay on
Corrado’s bed fighting with
everything with Corrado watching from across the room then he
came to the bed and
mounted me and this made no different except now I had to
fight everything through Corrado, which I did
“undaunted” (so Kant) on his freezing bed in its midnight glare.
What will you take? I ask Corrado who is leaving for Patagonia
and when he says 2 or 3
valises I say if I had to go away I would take with me everything
To this Corrado says nothing which is not I think the opposite of
Doesn’t seem right is what my husband would say, he says this
especially since I came out of the clinic, a clinic for people who
want everything, everything I see
everything I taste everything I touch everyday even the
ashtrays and at
the clinic I had only one question What shall I do with my eyes?