I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you.

I know it’s stupid to not own a gun yet have so many triggers, but in some other world gigantic seashells hold humans to their ears and listen to the echo of machines.

No rescue boat can save the touches I left bobbing in the wild ocean of your flesh, but if they cut open your heart, like the belly of a shark, dumped its contents on a table—would there be any trace of me?

I've been ignored by prettier women than you, but none who carried the heavy pitchers of silence so far, without spilling a drop.

Now I'm just like everybody else, and it's so funny, the way monogamy is funny, the way someone falling down in the street is funny. I entered a revolving door and emerged as a human being. When you think of me is my face electronically blurred?

I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you.

There's two kinds of women--those you write poems about and those you don't.