We Talked Death With Burned-up Intensity, Both

The Witch's Life" When I Was A Child There Was An Old Woman In Our Neighborhood Whom We Called The Witch. All Day She Peered From Her Second Story Window From Behind The Wrinkled Curtains And Sometimes She Would Open The Window And Yell: Get Out Of My Life! She Had Hair Like Kelp And A Voice Like A Boulder. I Think Of Her Sometimes Now And Wonder If I Am Becoming Her.

When The Cow Gives Blood And The Christ Is Born We Must All Eat Sacrifices. We Must All Eat Beautiful Women.

I Raise My Pelvis To God So That It May Know The Truth Of How Flowers Smash Through The Long Winter.

Don't Bite Till You Know If It's Bread Or Stone.

I Am Crazy As Hell, But I Know It. And Knowing It Is A Kind Of Sanity That Makes The Sickness Worse.