Let Our Scars Fall In Love.

Thats The Way It Is With Poetry: When It Is Incomprehensible It Seems Profound, And When You Understand It, It Is Only Ridiculous.

Let Our Scars Fall In Love.

Little Sleep's-head Sprouting Hair In The Moonlight, When I Come Back We Will Go Out Together, We Will Walk Out Together Among, The Ten Thousand Things, Each Scratched Too Late With Such Knowledge, The Wages Of Dying Is Love.

Sometimes It Is Necessary To Reteach A Thing Its Loveliness

Perhaps Poetry Will Be The Canary In The Mine-shaft Warning Us Of What's To Come.