Inside My Empty Bottle I

In Their Effort To Divorce Language And Experience, Deconstructionist Critics Remind Me Of Middle-class Parents Who Do Not Allow Their Children To Play In The Street.

I Left Parts Of Myself Everywhere, The Way Absent-minded People Leave Gloves And Umbrellas Whose Colors Are Sad From Dispensing So Much Bad Luck

The Highest Levels Of Consciousness Are Wordless.

The Stars Know Everything, So We Try To Read Their Minds. As Distant As They Are, We Choose To Whisper In Their Presence.

Words Make Love On The Page Like Flies In The Summer Heat And The Poet Is Only The Bemused Spectator.