I Would Like To Bury All The

Yet Love Enters My Blood Like An I.v., Dripping In Its Little White Moments.

My Death From The Wrists, Two Name Tags, Blood Worn Like A Corsage To Bloom One On The Left And One On The Right.

Our Children Tremble In Their Teen-age Cribs, Whirling Off On A Thumb Or A Motorcycle.

True. There Is A Beautiful Jesus. He Is Frozen To His Bones Like A Chunk Of Beef. How Desperately He Wanted To Pull His Arms In! How Desperately I Touch His Vertical And Horizontal Axes! But I Can't. Need Is Not Quite Belief.

In A Dream You Are Never Eighty.