My Business Is Words. Words Are Like

I Want To Kiss God On His Nose And Watch Him Sneeze And So Do You. Not Out Of Disrespect. Out Of Pique. Out Of A Man-to-man Thing.

Somebody Who Should Have Been Born Is Gone.

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.

My Death From The Wrists, Two Name Tags, Blood Worn Like A Corsage To Bloom One On The Left And One On The Right.

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.