One Can't Build Little White Picket Fences

Nature Is Full Of Teeth That Come In One By One, Then Decay, Fall Out.

Please God, We're All Right Here. Please Leave Us Alone. Don't Send Death In His Fat Red Suit And His Ho-ho Baritone.

Sometimes The Soul Takes Pictures Of Things It Has Wished For, But Never Seen.

Not That It Was Beautiful, But That, In The End, There Was A Certain Sense Of Order There; Something Worth Learning In That Narrow Diary Of My Mind

The Stars Are Pears That No One Can Reach, Even For A Wedding. Perhaps For A Death.