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Monday, July 9, 2007. This is winter, this is night, small love -. A sort of black horsehair,. A rough, dumb country stuff. Of what green stars can make it to our gate. I hold you on my arm. The dull bells tongue the hour. The mirror floats us at one candle power. This is the fluid in which we meet each other,. This haloey radiance that seems to breathe. And lets our shadows wither.

Sunday, December 17, 2006. The Broken Bootstrap of thee Lawd. Our land was never ours,. Our flag has never hung,. Our wars were never fought,. A goddamned thing from anyone. I am the prettiest girl in town! I make the poets sing till they weep.

Wednesday, May 6, 2015. I still believe in tiny things. The magic when a robins sings,. The ballet of a falling leaf. The folks who serve and give no grief. And cats that swat at battered strings. Yes, even when the skinned knee stings. Despite the cell that never rings. The winter months before all springs. I need not trade my place with kings. This faith of mine has sharper teeth. Tuesday, December 16, 2014.