Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Love

My race has forgotten the beauty of meaning much by saying little.

Now tongues work all by themselves with no help from the mind.

I could make a point strong enough to stop a womb--or a knife.

Each story has a monster in it who made them tough instead of brave so they open their legs rather than their hearts where that folded child is tucked.

Most demons get hungry at supper time like us.

No comments: