The Saints Come, As Human

Watch Out For Love (unless It Is True, And Every Part Of You Says Yes Including The Toes), It Will Wrap You Up Like A Mummy, And Your Scream Won't Be Heard And None Of Your Running Will Run.

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.

Poetry To Me Is Prayer.

I Am A Collection Of Dismantled Almosts.

O Yellow Eye, Let Me Be Sick With Your Heat, Let Me Be Feverish And Frowning.