Yes I try to kill myself in small amounts, an innocuous occupation. Actually I'm hung up on it.

Take your foot out of the graveyard, they are busy being dead.

The trouble with therapy is that it makes life go backwards.

... and my love stays bitterly glowing, spasms of it will not sleep, and I am helpless and thirsty and need shade but there is no one to cover me- not even God.

She is so naked and singular. She is the sum of yourself and your dream. Climb her like a monument, step after step. She is solid.

The little girl skipped by under the wrinkled oak leaves and held fast to a replica of herself.

Let there be seasons so that our tongues will be rich in asparagus and limes.