The blood jet is poetry and there is no stopping it.

Slowly, slowly, catch the monkey.

From the night Buddy Willard kissed me and said I must go out with a lot of boys, he made me feel I was much more sexy and experienced than he was and that everything he did like hugging and kissing and petting was simply what I made him feel like doing out of the blue, he couldn’t help it and didn’t know how it came about. Now I saw he had only been pretending all this time to be so innocent.

Oh what a poet I will flay myself into.

Love is the bone and sinew of my curse.

I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night.

Not easy to state the change you made. If I'm alive now, I was dead, Though, like a stone, unbothered by it.