I Hoard Books. They Are People Who

What's The Point Of Fighting The Dollars When All You Need Is A Warm Bed? When The Dog Barks You Let Him In. All We Need Is Someone To Let Us In. And One Other Thing: To Consider The Lilies In The Field.

My Sleeping Pill Is White. It Is A Splendid Pearl; It Floats Me Out Of Myself, My Stung Skin As Alien As A Loose Bolt Of Cloth.

The Stars Are Pears That No One Can Reach, Even For A Wedding. Perhaps For A Death.

Think Of Innocent Icarus Who Is Doing Quite Well: Larger Than A Sail, Over The Fog And The Blast Of The Plushy Ocean, He Goes. Admire His Wings!

I Would Like To Bury All The Hating Eyes Under The Sand Somewhere.