What is it the fishers who crouch at the river bends
Hope to hook from this discolored water?

someone who in that instant
is preoccupied with thoughts of suicide
is forced by nature’s call

The mouse is golden,
and so is the turtle, and the spider, 

What’s the reason for your sudden laughter, butcher,
while you stand next to that which only a moment ago was
      living, peeling her skin off as if it were an expensive dress

For whom are you intended, wine in the corked bottle?
Through whose veins will you send your merry little flame

Between Something and Nothing you chose that which in
      truth is Nothing!

Therefore, above all things, he loathed
his miserable self. 

A man bigger than you and more intelligent
walks into his future as into a dining room
anticipating small surprises and large comforts.

But in a poem we can do anything we want.
Look how easy it is to add on rooms, to multiply

would you mind very much if I came home with you?
Yes, mother, we’ll go home now.