Evil Is Maybe Lying To

My Death From The Wrists, Two Name Tags, Blood Worn Like A Corsage To Bloom One On The Left And One On The Right.

I Suffer For Birds And Fireflies But Not Frogs, She Said, And Threw Him Across The Room. Kaboom! Like A Genie Out Of A Samovar, A Handsome Prince Arose In The Corner Of The Bedroom.

Abundance Is Scooped From Abundance Yet Abundance Remains.

I Sit At My Desk Each Night With No Place To Go, Opening The Wrinkled Maps Of Milwaukee And Buffalo, The Whole U.s., Its Cemeteries, Its Arbitrary Time Zones, Through Routes Like Small Veins, Capitals Like Small Stones.

What's The Point Of Fighting The Dollars When All You Need Is A Warm Bed? When The Dog Barks You Let Him In. All We Need Is Someone To Let Us In. And One Other Thing: To Consider The Lilies In The Field.