Our Eyes Are Full Of Terrible Confessions.

Writers Are Such Phonies: They Sometimes Have Wise Insights But They Don't Live By Them At All. That's What Writers Are Like...you Think They Know Something, But Usually They Are Just Messes.

Our Eyes Are Full Of Terrible Confessions.

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.

Even So, I Must Admire Your Skill. You Are So Gracefully Insane.

Why Are All These Dolls Falling Out Of The Sky? Was There A Father? Or Have The Planets Cut Holes In Their Nets And Let Our Childhood Out, Or Are We The Dolls Themselves, Born But Never Fed?