Blue Eyes Wash Off Sometimes.

To Tell The Truth Days Are All The Same Size And Words Aren't Much Company.

I Put The Gold Star Up In The Front Window Beside The Flag. Alterations Is What I Know And What I Did: Hems, Gussets And Seams.

Suicide Is, After All, The Opposite Of The Poem.

It Is A Dead Heart. It Is Inside Of Me. It Is A Stranger Yet Once It Was Agreeable, Opening And Closing Like A Clam.

I Said, The Poets Are There I Hear Them Singing And Lying Around Their Round Table And Around Me Still.