My Poems Are Political In The Deeper

The Memory Of My Father Is Wrapped Up In White Paper, Like Sandwiches Taken For A Day Of Work. Just As A Magician Takes Towers And Rabbits Out Of His Hat, He Drew Love From His Small Body.

What Are You Going To Do Now? You'll Collect Loves Like Stamps. You've Got Doubles And No One Will Trade With You. And You've Got Damaged Ones.

The Soul Inside Me Is The Last Foreign Language I'm Learning.

What Are You Going To Do Now? You'll Collect Loves Like Stamps. You've Got Doubles And No One Will Trade With You. And You've Got Damaged Ones.

I Try To Stay A Civilian, To Live As A Human, Not As A Poet.