You See, We Live In A Cold

There Is Rust In My Mouth,the Stain Of An Old Kiss.

Saints Have No Moderation, Nor Do Poets, Just Exuberance.

I, In My Brand New Body, Which Was Not A Woman's Yet, Told The Stars My Questions And Thought God Could Really See The Heat And The Painted Light, Elbows, Knees, Dreams, Goodnight.

Today Life Opened Inside Me Like An Egg.

I Am Younger Each Year At The First Snow. When I See It, Suddenly, In The Air, All Little And White And Moving; Then I Am In Love Again And Very Young And I Believe Everything.