quotes from classic

Darling, life is not in my hands; life with its terrible changes...

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kill was tangled into her beginning.

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Death's a sad bone; bruised, you'd say, and yet she waits for me, year after year,

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It is snowing and death bugs me as stubborn as insomnia....

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Father, you died once, salted down at fifty-nine, packed down like a big snow angel, wasn't that enough?

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Of course the New Testament is very small....

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I tied down time with a rope but it came back....

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I brush my hair, waiting in the pain machine for my bones to get hard,...

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I have put a padlock on you, Mother, dear dead human,...

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Never mind you and me. They could not listen....

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Does he lie there forever, where his rifle waits, giant...

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My heart is on a budget. It keeps me on the brink.

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Death, you lie in my arms like a cherub, as heavy as bread dough. Your milky wings are as still as plastic.

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His white head hung out like a carpet bag and his crotch turned blue as a blood blister,...

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The parasol girls slept, sun-sitting their lovely years.

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Some women marry houses. It's another kind of skin; it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.

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Why do you gather, my townsmen? There is no news here....

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My Sweeney, Mr. Eliot, is that Australian who came...

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Listen. We must all stop dying in the little ways, in the craters of hate, in the potholes of indifference....

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Yes, I know. Death sits with his key in my lock. Not one day is taken for granted. Even nursery rhymes have put me in hock.

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