Yet Love Enters My Blood Like An

I'll Vacuum Up My Stale Hair, I'll Pay All My Neighbors' Bad Debts, I'll Write A Poem Called Yellow And Put My Lips Down To Drink It Up.

The Trouble With Therapy Is That It Makes Life Go Backwards.

And The Aura Of You Remains, Remains, Remains...

I Have Forgiven All The Old Actors For Dying. A New One Comes On With The Same Lines, Like Large White Growths, In His Mouth. The Dancers Come On From The Wings, Perfectly Mated.

Today God Gives Milk / And I Have The Pail.