Suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build.

I tell you what you’ll never really know: all the medical hypothesis that explained my brain will never be as true as these struck leaves letting go.

Suicides have a special language. Like carpenters they want to know which tools. They never ask why build.

Only my books anoint me, and a few friends, those who reach into my veins.

Women tell time by the body. They are like clocks. They are always fastened to the earth, listening for its small animal noises.

Fee-fi-fo-fum - Now I'm borrowed. Now I'm numb.

In a dream you are never eighty.