Craft Is A Trick You Make Up

The Place I Live In Is A Kind Of Maze And I Keep Seeking The Exit Or The Home.

Not That It Was Beautiful, But That I Found Some Order There.

I Raise My Pelvis To God So That It May Know The Truth Of How Flowers Smash Through The Long Winter.

Yes I Try To Kill Myself In Small Amounts, An Innocuous Occupation. Actually I'm Hung Up On It.

There Is A Good Look That I Wear Like A Blood Clot. I Have Sewn It Over My Left Breast. I Have Made A Vocation Of It.