One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.
God has a brown voice, as soft and full as beer.
Fear / a motor, / pumps me around and around / until I fade slowly.
It's a little mad, but I believe I am many people. When I am writing a poem, I feel I am the person who should have written it.
The soul was not cured, it was as full as a clothes closet of dresses that did not fit.
The man inside of woman ties a knot so that they will never again be separate.