Death Is The Mother Of Beauty.

Sometimes What I Wouldn't Give To Have Us Sitting In A Bar Again At 9:00 A.m. Telling Lies To One Another, Far From God.

I'd Been Staying At The Holiday Inn With My Girlfriend, Honestly The Most Beautiful Woman I'd Ever Known, For Three Days Under A Phony Name, Shooting Heroin. We Made Love In The Bed, Ate Steaks At The Restaurant, Shot Up In The John, Puked, Cried, Accused One Another, Begged Of One Another, Forgave, Promised, And Carried One Another To Heaven.

She Wanted To Eat My Heart And Be Lost In The Desert With What She'd Done, She Wanted To Fall On Her Knees And Give Birth From It, She Wanted To Hurt Me As Only A Child Can Be Hurt By Its Mother.

I Hate Two Kinds Of Sentences You Hear In Workshops, The Ones Beginning "i Really Like ..." And The Ones Beginning "my Problem With This Poem Is ..."

And Therefore I Looked Down Into The Great Pity Of A Person’s Life On This Earth. I Don’t Mean That We All End Up Dead, That’s Not The Great Pity. I Mean That He Couldn’t Tell Me What He Was Dreaming, And I Couldn’t Tell Him What Was Real.