Here on the drawing board fingers and noses leak from the air brush maggots lie under if i should die before if i should die in the back room stacked up in smooth boxes like soapflakes or tunafish wait the undreamt of.

Everything pays for growing tame.

... people get confidential at midnight.

Women are not supposed to have uteruses, especially in poems.

One way of ending the poem is to turn it back on itself, like a serpent with its tail in its mouth.

I didn't write my poems because I wanted to, they were wrung from me. I had to write them.

To build is to dwell.