Which Way Will The Sunflower Turn Surrounded

Sometime I’ll Lay Down My Wrath, As I Lay My Body Down Between The Ache Of Breath And Breath, Golden Slumber In The Bone.

You Can't Escape The Past In Paris, And Yet What's So Wonderful About It Is That The Past And Present Intermingle So Intangibly That It Doesn't Seem To Burden.

I Know Too Much And Not Enough

You Too Must Seek The Sun.

What Peaches And What Penumbras! Whole Families Shopping At Night! Aisles Full Of Husbands! Wives In The Avocados, Babies In The Tomatoes!--and You, Garcia Lorca, What Were You Doing Down By The Watermelons?