God has a brown voice, as soft and full as beer.

It is June. I am tired of being brave.

I am teaching... This year it's kind of like having a love affair with a rhinoceros.

Everyone in me is a bird I am beating all my wings

Then all this became history. Your hand found mine. Life rushed to my fingers like a blood clot. Oh, my carpenter, the fingers are rebuilt. They dance with yours.

It was as if a morning-glory had bloomed in her throat, and all that blue and small pollen ate into my heart, violent and religious

The man inside of woman ties a knot so that they will never again be separate.