I Am So Imperfect, Can

I'm An Empress. I Wear An Apron. My Typewriter Writes. It Didn't Break The Way It Warned. Even Crazy, I'm As Nice As A Chocolate Bar.

Blind With Love, My Daughter Has Cried Nightly For Horses, Those Long-necked Marchers And Churners That She Has Mastered, Any And All, Reigning Them In Like A Circus Hand.

Being Kissed On The Back Of The Knee Is A Moth At The Windowscreen.

Evil Is Maybe Lying To God. Or Better, Lying To Love.

As For Me, I Am A Watercolor. I Wash Off.