Death's In The Good-bye.

As For Me, I Am A Watercolor. I Wash Off.

But Even In A Telephone Booth Evil Can Seep Out Of The Receiver And We Must Cover It With A Mattress, And Then Tear It From Its Roots And Bury It, Bury It.

I Tell You What You’ll Never Really Know: All The Medical Hypothesis That Explained My Brain Will Never Be As True As These Struck Leaves Letting Go.

Today God Gives Milk / And I Have The Pail.

I Did Not Know The Woman I Would Be Nor That Blood Would Bloom In Me Each Month Like An Exotic Flower, Nor That Children, Two Monuments, Would Break From Between My Legs.