Let The Light Be Called Day So

O Yellow Eye, Let Me Be Sick With Your Heat, Let Me Be Feverish And Frowning.

No One To Hate Except The Slim Fish Of Memory That Slides In And Out Of My Brain.

Poetry Is My Life, My Postmark, My Hands, My Kitchen, My Face.

The Day Of Fire Is Coming, The Thrush Will Fly Ablaze Like A Little Sky Rocket.

My Heart Is On A Budget. It Keeps Me On The Brink.