Poetry: A Sliver Of The

Pile The Bodies High At Austerlitz And Waterloo. Shovel Them Under And Let Me Work- I Am The Grass; I Cover All. And Pile Them High At Gettysburg. And Pile Them High At Ypres And Verdun. Shovel Them Under And Let Me Work. Two Years, Ten Years,and Passengers Ask The Conductor- What Place Is This? Where Are We Now? I Am The Grass. Let Me Work.

Poetry Is A Diary Kept By A Sea Creature Who Lives On Land And Wishes He Could Fly.

The Moon Is A Friend For The Lonesome To Talk To.

A Politician Should Have Three Hats. One For Throwing Into The Ring, One For Talking Through, And One For Pulling Rabbits Out Of If Elected.

The People Know What The Land Knows.