Nature Is Full Of Teeth That Come

I Tell It Stories Now And Then And Feed It Images Like Honey. I Will Not Speculate Today With Poems That Think They're Money.

Thumbs Grow Into My Throat. I Wear Slaps Like A Spot Of Rouge.

I Said, The Poets Are There I Hear Them Singing And Lying Around Their Round Table And Around Me Still.

The Body Is A Damn Hard Thing To Kill.

The Family Story Tells, And It Was Told True, Of My Great-grandfather Who Begat Eight Genius Children And Bought Twelve Almost New Grand Pianos. He Left A Considerable Estate When He Died.