Images Are The Heart Of Poetry ...

Rejoice With The Day Lily For It Is Born For A Day To Live By The Mailbox And Glorify The Roadside

...became A Woman Who Learned Her Own Skin And Dug Into Her Soul And Found It Full.

The Heart, This Child Of Myself That Resides In The Flesh, This Ultimate Signature Of The Me, The Start Of My Blindness And Sleep, Builds A Death Crèche.

I'm The Crazy One Who Thinks That Words Reach People.

Here In The Hospital, I Say,that Is Not My Body, Not My Body.i Am Not Here For The Doctorsto Read Like A Recipe.