Thumbs Grow Into My Throat. I Wear

Watch Out For Intellect, Because It Knows So Much It Knows Nothing And Leaves You Hanging Upside Down, Mouthing Knowledge As Your Heart Falls Out Of Your Mouth.

I Would Like A Simple Life / Yet All Night I Am Laying / Poems Away In A Long Box.

Evil Is Maybe Lying To God. Or Better, Lying To Love.

No One To Hate Except The Slim Fish Of Memory That Slides In And Out Of My Brain.

What's The Point Of Fighting The Dollars When All You Need Is A Warm Bed? When The Dog Barks You Let Him In. All We Need Is Someone To Let Us In. And One Other Thing: To Consider The Lilies In The Field.