I Like On The Table, When We're

Death Arrives Among All That Sound Like A Shoe With No Foot In It, Like A Suit With No Man In It, Comes And Knocks, Using A Ring With No Stone In It, With No Finger In It, Comes And Shouts With No Mouth, With No Tongue,with No Throat. Nevertheless Its Steps Can Be Heard And Its Clothing Makes A Hushed Sound, Like A Tree.

At Night I Dream That You And I Are Two Plants That Grew Together, Roots Entwined, And That You Know The Earth And The Rain Like My Mouth, Since We Are Made Of Earth And Rain.

Who Writes Your Name In Letters Of Smoke Among The Stars Of The South? Oh Let Me Remember You As You Were Before You Existed.

Like A Jar You Housed The Infinite Tenderness, And The Infinite Oblivion Shattered You Like A Jar.

The Best Poet Is The Man Who Delivers Our Daily Bread: The Local Baker.