I smell the rod,
It smells so bad.
I used to be a free bird
Before I came, behind this bar.
...
My friend! My fiend!
The little I have, we spend together
Either good or bad, we are both in the weather.
...
I have had times
When I bake poems all alone
I have been heard
Speaking on the street all alone.
...
The wounds never heal
They bleed still
Not from my thighs
From my shattered heart
...
While you await the show
Of my shameful end
Like a dough,
Upon a well-bleached oil
...
Where art thou! Where art thou!
When I was paddling
The canoe of life
...
Everyone stares
At the trembling beads
Sparkling from the end
Of your springy spine
...
Men call this mourning
But, it is the morning
Of the first day without you
...
Twenty Ten Twenty
Flowers singing deeply
Flags turned windy
...