Death, I Need My Little Addiction To

I Sit At My Desk Each Night With No Place To Go, Opening The Wrinkled Maps Of Milwaukee And Buffalo, The Whole U.s., Its Cemeteries, Its Arbitrary Time Zones, Through Routes Like Small Veins, Capitals Like Small Stones.

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.

O Starry Night, This Is How I Want To Die

The Soul Was Not Cured, It Was As Full As A Clothes Closet Of Dresses That Did Not Fit.

But My Future Is A Secret. / It Is As Shy As A Mole.