Fittingly, this was the poem I read on Tax Day: Bewildered There are many guises for intelligence. One part of you is gliding in a high windstream, while your more ordinary notions take little steps and peck at the ground. Conventional knowledge is death to our souls,
From Now On, I'll Be Mad
From Now On, I'll Be Mad
From Now On, I'll Be Mad
Fittingly, this was the poem I read on Tax Day: Bewildered There are many guises for intelligence. One part of you is gliding in a high windstream, while your more ordinary notions take little steps and peck at the ground. Conventional knowledge is death to our souls,