One can't build little white picket fences to keep nightmares out.

Images are the heart of poetry ... You're not a poet without imagery.

They [daisies] are my favorite flower. There is something innocent and vulnerable about them as if they thanked you for admiring them.

God owns heaven but He craves the earth.

Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.

I am your dwarf. I am the enemy within. I am the boss of your dreams. See. Your hand shakes. It is not palsy or booze. It is your Doppelganger trying to get out. Beware...Beware...

I find now, swallowing one teaspoon of pain, that it drops downward to the past where it mixes with last year’s cupful and downward into a decade’s quart and downward into a lifetime’s ocean. I alternate treading water and deadman’s float.