The Tongue, The Chinese Say, Is Like

O Yellow Eye, Let Me Be Sick With Your Heat, Let Me Be Feverish And Frowning.

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

Father, You Died Once, Salted Down At Fifty-nine, Packed Down Like A Big Snow Angel, Wasn't That Enough?

The Soul Was Not Cured, It Was As Full As A Clothes Closet Of Dresses That Did Not Fit.

In An Old Time There Was A King As Wise As A Dictionary.