Inside Many Of Us Is A Small

My Business Is Words. Words Are Like Labels, Or Coins, Or Better, Like Swarming Bees.

I'm The Crazy One Who Thinks That Words Reach People.

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.

Blue Eyes Wash Off Sometimes.

Then God Spoke To Me And Said: People Say Only Good Things About Christmas. If They Want To Say Something Bad, They Whisper.