I Will Find That Special Person Who

Kiss The Mouth Which Tells You, Here, Here Is The World. This Mouth. This Laughter. These Temple Bones.

The Bud Stands For All Things, Even For Those Things That Don't Flower

I Will Find That Special Person Who Is Wrong For Me In Just The Right Way.

There Are Two Versions To Every Poem – The Crying Version And The Straight Version

This One Whom Habit Of Memory Propels To The Ground Of His Making, Sleeper Only The Mortal Sounds Can Sing Awake, This Blessing Love Gives Again Into Our Arms.