All Who Love Have Lied.

With This Pen I Take In Hand My Selves And With These Dead Disciples I Will Grapple. Though Rain Curses The Window Let The Poem Be Made.

The Witch's Life" When I Was A Child There Was An Old Woman In Our Neighborhood Whom We Called The Witch. All Day She Peered From Her Second Story Window From Behind The Wrinkled Curtains And Sometimes She Would Open The Window And Yell: Get Out Of My Life! She Had Hair Like Kelp And A Voice Like A Boulder. I Think Of Her Sometimes Now And Wonder If I Am Becoming Her.

When The Cow Gives Blood And The Christ Is Born We Must All Eat Sacrifices. We Must All Eat Beautiful Women.

Maybe, Although My Heart Is A Kitten Of Butter, I Am Blowing It Up Like A Zeppelin.

I Try To Take Care And Be Gentle To Them. Words And Eggs Must Be Handled With Care. Once Broken They Are Impossible Things To Repair.