I do not do well without my chattel.
I do not do well without doing what I will with my chattel.
My chattel my bodies my buildings my land.

You can hear me walking
from your bed, where the blankets
aren’t enough to keep you warm.

Too serious
no longer, we
                have learned to love

The money, he asks, haven’t you
thought about the money?
We’re feeding her

Our children do not mean
Their numbers are up, the fireflies
To kill them when they cup

The crocodile is eating the new barman! 
There’s a leg sticking out of its mouth.
Waiter, I’d like another one while I take in this gorgeous sunset.

I was walking down Roupell Street,
Avoiding all the drunks.
I live in a little house 

The ringing telephone sobs to be picked up and when I do 
It’s someone I love but don’t see anymore,
Calling from her car to ask 

My God, what a beautiful New York day!
If only getting old would go away!
Wings that used to lift me like a hawk

Each of us is also a ghost. 
Most you can see.
They look like the person you are.