Love Is The Bone And Sinew Of

It Won't Happen Yet, Ellen Mused, Mashing Cooked Carrots For Jill's Lunch. Breakups Seldom Do. It Will Unfold Slowly, One Little Tell-tale Symptom After Another Like Some Awful, Hellish Flower.

I Laid My Face To The Smooth Face Of The Marble And Howled My Loss Into The Cold Salt Rain.

Love Is The Bone And Sinew Of My Curse.

You've Only Got So Long To Live.

Mother Of Otherness, Eat Me.