Women Always Put Men First. That's How

I Understood Why She Did It. At That Moment I Knew Why People Tagged Graffiti On The Walls Of Neat Little Houses And Scratched The Paint On New Cars And Beat Up Well-tended Children. It Was Only Natural To Want To Destroy Something You Could Never Have.

We Don't Have A Unitary Society Anymore, You Know; It's Very Fragmented. I Look Up And Down My Block In Silverlake And There Is A Different Universe In Every House.

If Sinners Where So Unhappy, Why Would They Prefer Their Suffering? But Now I Knew Why. Without My Wounds, Who Was I?

They Dream Of Men With Gentle Hands, Eloquent With Tenderness, Fingers That Brushed Along A Cheek, That Outlined Open Lips In The Lovers' Braille. Hands That Sculpted Sweetness From Sullen Flesh, That Traced Breast And Ignited Hips, Opening, Kneading. Flesh Becomes Bread In The Heat Of Those Hands, Braided And Rising.

Purification In Fire. Public Cremation