I Would Like To Think That No

Rejoice With The Day Lily For It Is Born For A Day To Live By The Mailbox And Glorify The Roadside

I Am So Imperfect, Can You Love Me When Really My Soul Is Deformed? Will You Love Me Anyhow?

I Must Always Forget How One Word Is Able To Pick Out Another, To Manner Another, Until I Have Got Something I Might Have Said... But Did Not.

I Sit At My Desk Each Night With No Place To Go, Opening The Wrinkled Maps Of Milwaukee And Buffalo, The Whole U.s., Its Cemeteries, Its Arbitrary Time Zones, Through Routes Like Small Veins, Capitals Like Small Stones.

Suddenly I'm Not Half The Girl I Used To Be. There's A Shadow Hanging Over Me . . . From Me To You Out Of My Electric Devil.