“I’m contemplative nearly always… never. I ask myself that tenth layered question and sit with unchosen alarm; this is me – frightfully forbidden from being myself albeit constant and vying to try. Did I fall upon the haphazard name of a strong and, what’s more, enigmatically estranged poet simply because – these wandersome letters, not just welterweight words, are trying at vying to also mean everything? I mean… I do mean enough; have done so a fair while now. Hardcore, softly shy silly little Handsome Disneyland smile. They watch me wander-both-wonder whilst I inside-cry. If all of my secondary sentences can manage to make some kind of tertiary sense again and justifiably inside of my catapulting head, then just how over-stretched can one person’s potential – to live – possibly be?”