Peace Is Indivisible, And The

Sarcasm... The Protest Of Those Who Are Weak.

Nothing Endures. Not A Tree. Not Love. Not Even Death By Violence.

As I Walked Briskly Out The Road The Wind Knifed At My Face, But This Sun Caressed The Back Of My Neck.

It Was Hard To Remember In The Heavy And Sensual Clarity Of These Mornings; I Forgot Whom I Hated And Who Hated Me. I Wanted To Break Out Crying From Stabs Of Hopeless Joy, Or Intolerable Promise, Or Because These Mornings Were Too Full Of Beauty For Me, Because I Knew Of Too Much Hate To Be Contained In A World Like This.

Always Say Some Prayers At Night Because It Might Turn Out That There Is A God.