Carl Watson

It was even said that some birds spring to life in the tension of accidental chords being struck in the ether, a confluence of arbitrary sound waves from unrelated sources: a piano, a truck, a breaking bottle---a bird.

There was one floor that was all gynecologists. They could tell by the remnants of weird optical contraptions- all the convoluted tools men use when they're searching for the source of their anxieties.

I saw a bullfrog snap a tiny bird off a reed once, swallowing it just like that, grinding the singing thing to foodstuff in its slimy belly, and the witnessing of that act produced in me an insight: that this moment of terror before resignation was possibly the only ascertainable moment of truth we can ever know in life.