This Is What Poems Are: With Mercy

Please God, We're All Right Here. Please Leave Us Alone. Don't Send Death In His Fat Red Suit And His Ho-ho Baritone.

Poems Aren't Postcards To Send Home.

In A Dream You Are Never Eighty.

I'll Vacuum Up My Stale Hair, I'll Pay All My Neighbors' Bad Debts, I'll Write A Poem Called Yellow And Put My Lips Down To Drink It Up.

Be Careful Of Words, / ... They Can Be Both Daisies And Bruises.