The Snow Has Quietness In It; No

Thief!- How Did You Crawl Into, Crawl Down Alone Into The Death I Wanted So Badly And For So Long.

I Raise My Pelvis To God So That It May Know The Truth Of How Flowers Smash Through The Long Winter.

It's A Little Mad, But I Believe I Am Many People. When I Am Writing A Poem, I Feel I Am The Person Who Should Have Written It.

The Silence Is Death. It Comes Each Day With Its Shock To Sit On My Shoulder, A White Bird, And Peck At The Black Eyes And The Vibrating Red Muscle Of My Mouth.

Take Your Foot Out Of The Graveyard, They Are Busy Being Dead.