There Was A Beautiful Time.

The Artist's Life Nourishes Itself On The Particular, The Concrete.

What Did My Fingers Do Before They Held Him? What Did My Heart Do, With Its Love?

I Lean To You, Numb As A Fossil. Tell Me I'm Here.

I Began To Think Vodka Was My Drink At Last. It Didn’t Taste Like Anything, But It Went Straight Down Into My Stomach Like A Sword Swallowers’ Sword And Made Me Feel Powerful And Godlike.

And The Danger Is That In This Move Toward New Horizons And Far Directions, That I May Lose What I Have Now, And Not Find Anything Except Loneliness