Being kissed on the back of the knee is a moth at the windowscreen and yes my darling a dot on the fathometer is

Somebody who should have been born is gone. Just as the earth puckered its mou… each bud puffing out from its knot… I changed my shoes, and then drove…

A story, a story! (Let it go. Let it come.) I was stamped out like a Plymouth… into this world. First came the crib

of her arms, this was her sin: where the wood berries bin of forest was new and full, she crept out by its tall posts, those wooden legs,

Under my bowels, yellow with smoke… it waits. Under my eyes, those milk bunnies, it waits. It is waiting.

If I really am walking with ordin… past the same rest home on the sam… and see another waiting head at th… just as she would always sit, watching for anyone from her woode…

For the angels who inhabit this to… although their shape constantly ch… each night we leave some cold pota… and a bowl of milk on the windowsi… Usually they inhabit heaven where,

It is snowing and death bugs me as stubborn as insomnia. The fierce bubbles of chalk, the little white lesions settle on the street outside.

Surely I will be disquieted by the hospital, that body zone— bodies wrapped in elastic bands, bodies cased in wood or used like… bodies crucified up onto their cru…

You said the anger would come back just as the love did. I have a black look I do not like. It is a mask I try on. I migrate toward it and its frog

What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling off toward N… They are neat as a wallet,

Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in that narrow diary of my mind,

The day of fire is coming, the thr… will fly ablaze like a little sky… the beetle will sink like a giant… and at the breaking of the morning… will turn into oil and will in the…