This collection is for the improvers and the disprovers, the ones in the bunker (loose in a bunker/who's in a bunker?). It will allow you to have everything all of the time. If you bring your best to these ikons, you can worship at the font from where poetry springs. If you read these without empathy and without imagination, you'll probably see them as all wet. They are true because I say so, true because I speak them; but they are also largely false. Somebody has to write this. Who else but I? A description is necessary for the ineffable, and the ineffable cannot be described - only pointed near to. It is the other world within this one, and you must have access to it - and who doesn't? - to use these poems properly, as with many other poems. These are unpublished poetry manuscripts all mashed together, an amateur's attempt at reaching out into the void of the meaninglessness of geographic propinquity, to find the meaning of it after all.