The Place I Live In

The Beautiful Feeling After Writing A Poem Is On The Whole Better Even Than After Sex, And That's Saying A Lot.

I Grow Old On My Bitterness.

Let There Be A Heaven So That Man May Outlive His Grasses.

It Was As If A Morning-glory Had Bloomed In Her Throat, And All That Blue And Small Pollen Ate Into My Heart, Violent And Religious

Daylight Is Nobody's Friend. God Comes In Like A Landlord And Flashes On His Brassy Lamp.