The Sea Is Mother-death And

I Was Only Sitting Here In My White Study With The Awful Black Words Pushing Me Around.

Death's In The Good-bye.

I'm An Empress. I Wear An Apron. My Typewriter Writes. It Didn't Break The Way It Warned. Even Crazy, I'm As Nice As A Chocolate Bar.

I Am A Collection Of Dismantled Almosts.

You Lay, A Small Knuckle On My White Bed; Lay, That Fist Like A Snail, Small And Strong At My Breast. Your Lips Are Animals; You Are Fed With Love. At First, Hunger Is Not Wrong.