God Is Only Mocked By Believers.

I Can Only Sign Over Everything, The House, The Dog, The Ladders, The Jewels, The Soul, The Family Tree, The Mailbox. Then I Can Sleep. Maybe.

Sometimes I Fly Like An Eagle But With The Wings Of A Wren

The Soul Was Not Cured, It Was As Full As A Clothes Closet Of Dresses That Did Not Fit.

The Body Is A Damn Hard Thing To Kill.

The Little Girl Skipped By Under The Wrinkled Oak Leaves And Held Fast To A Replica Of Herself.