I'm In A Constant Process Of Thinking

A Friend Came Over To The House A Few Days Ago And Read One Of My Poems. He Came Back Today And Asked To Read The Same Poem Over Again. After He Finished Reading It, He Said, It Makes Me Want To Write Poetry.

There Was Something Dead In My Heart. I Tried To Figure Out What It Was By The Strength Of The Smell. I Knew That It Was Not A Lion Or A Sheep Or A Dog. Using Logical Deduction, I Came To The Conclusion That It Was A Mouse. I Had A Dead Mouse In My Heart.

Our Names Were Made For Us In Another Century.

I Had A Good-talking Candle Last Night In My Bedroom. I Was Very Tired But I Wanted Somebody To Be With Me, So I Lit A Candle And Listened To Its Comfortable Voice Of Light Until I Was Asleep.

The Sun Was Like A Huge 50-cent Piece That Someone Had Poured Kerosene On And Then Had Lit With A Match, And Said, "here, Hold This While I Go Get A Newspaper," And Put The Coin In My Hand, But Never Came Back.