Death May Whiten In Sun Or Out

I Have Been Holding A Dialogue With Myself And Girding Myself To Stand Fast Without Running.

Bright Beads Of Red Are Rising Through The Ink, Hearts-blood Bubbles Smearing Out Into The Black Stream

I Smile, Now, Thinking: We All Like To Think We Are Important Enough To Need Psychiatrists

Dancing Is The Normal Prelude To Intercourse.

I Am Not Cruel, Only Truthful.