Sorrow Is Easier Than Guilt.

Love Your Self's Self Where It Lives.

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

Everyone In Me Is A Bird I Am Beating All My Wings

This Is What Poems Are: With Mercy For The Greedy, They Are The Tongue's Wrangle, The World's Pottage, The Rat's Star.

Bless All Useful Objects, The Spoons Made Of Bone, The Mattress I Cook My Dreams Upon, The Typewriter That Is My Church With An Altar Of Keys Always Waiting.