Suddenly I'm Not Half The Girl I

Saints Have No Moderation, Nor Do Poets, Just Exuberance.

Love? Be It Man. Be It Woman. It Must Be A Wave You Want To Glide In On, Give Your Body To It, Give Your Laugh To It, Give, When The Gravelly Sand Takes You, Your Tears To The Land. To Love Another Is Something Like Prayer And Can't Be Planned, You Just Fall Into Its Arms Because Your Belief Undoes Your Disbelief.

I Leave You, Home, When I'm Ripped From The Doorstep By Commerce Or Fate. Then I Submit To The Awful Subway Of The World.

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.

God Has A Brown Voice, As Soft And Full As Beer.