The Day Of Fire Is

Sometimes I Fly Like An Eagle But With The Wings Of A Wren

We Talked Death With Burned-up Intensity, Both Of Us Drawn To It Like Moths To An Electric Light Bulb. Sucking On It!

Death's In The Good-bye.

Jesus Saw The Multitudes Were Hungry And He Said, Oh Lord, Send Down A Short-order Cook.

Fear / A Motor, / Pumps Me Around And Around / Until I Fade Slowly.