Poems Aren't Postcards To Send Home.

My Faith Is A Great Weight Hung On A Small Wire, As Doth The Spider Hang Her Baby On A Thin Web.

Poetry To Me Is Prayer.

Thumbs Grow Into My Throat. I Wear Slaps Like A Spot Of Rouge.

Not That It Was Beautiful, But That I Found Some Order There.

Be Careful Of Words, / ... They Can Be Both Daisies And Bruises.