Dawn Tinted The Darkness Like Water Ink.

Find Someone Who Will Tremble For Your Touch, Someone Whose Fingers Are A Poem.

I Emitted Some Civetlike Female Stink, A Distinct Perfume Of Sexual Wanting, That He Had Followed To Find Me Here In The Dark.

My House Is Modern, But I Like My Writing Room To Be Old Fashioned. I Write On A Little Wooden Secretary Desk.

I Closed My Eyes To Watch Tiny Dancers Like Jeweled Birds Cross The Dark Screen Of My Eyelids.

The Phoenix Must Burn To Emerge.