Sometimes I Fly Like An Eagle But

When I'm Writing, I Know I'm Doing The Thing I Was Born To Do.

This Is What Poems Are: With Mercy For The Greedy, They Are The Tongue's Wrangle, The World's Pottage, The Rat's Star.

Once Upon A Time We Were All Born, Popped Out Like Jelly Rolls Forgetting Our Fishdom, The Pleasuring Seas, The Country Of Comfort, Spanked Into The Oxygens Of Death.

Oh, Darling, Let Your Body In, Let It Tie You In, In Comfort.

Sometimes The Soul Takes Pictures Of Things It Has Wished For, But Never Seen.