Thumbs Grow Into My Throat. I Wear

The Boys And Girls Are One Tonight. They Unbutton Blouses. They Unzip Flies. They Take Off Shoes. They Turn Off The Light. The Glimmering Creatures Are Full Of Lies. They Are Eating Each Other. They Are Overfed. At Night, Alone, I Marry The Bed.

God Went Out Of Me As If The Sea Dried Up Like Sandpaper, As If The Sun Became A Latrine.

Need Is Not Quite Belief.

Let There Be Seasons So That Our Tongues Will Be Rich In Asparagus And Limes.

Suicide Is, After All, The Opposite Of The Poem.