Blue Eyes Wash Off Sometimes.

I Am Out Of Practice At Living. You Are As Brave As A Motorcycle.

The Sky Breaks. It Sags And Breathes Upon My Face. In The Presence Of Mine Enemies, Mine Enemies The World Is Full Of Enemies. There Is No Safe Place.

Bless All Useful Objects, The Spoons Made Of Bone, The Mattress I Cook My Dreams Upon, The Typewriter That Is My Church With An Altar Of Keys Always Waiting.

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

Somebody Who Should Have Been Born Is Gone.