It Doesn't Matter Who My

Love Your Self's Self Where It Lives.

I Was Spread Out Dailyand Examined For Flaws.

The Tongue, The Chinese Say, Is Like A Sharp Knife: It Kills Without Drawing Blood.

Being Kissed On The Back Of The Knee Is A Moth At The Windowscreen.

Unless I Can Shake Myself Free Of My Dog, My Flag, Of My Desk, My Mind, I Find Life A Bit Of A Drag. Not Always, Mind You. Usually I'm Like My Frying Pan Useful, Graceful, Sturdy And With No Caper, No Plan.