If I Believe In Anything,

If The Sky Falls They Shall Have Clouds For Supper.

The Poem I Want To Write Is Impossible. A Stone That Floats.

A Poem Is An Instant Of Lucidity In Which The Entire Organism Participates.

Words Make Love On The Page Like Flies In The Summer Heat And The Poet Is Only The Bemused Spectator.

There Are Knives That Glitter Like Altars In A Dark Church Where They Bring The Cripple And The Imbecile To Be Healed. There's A Woden Block Where Bones Are Broken, Scraped Clean--a River Dried To Its Bed