“
I dream
for an absentee and oft maligned
device—the accident-maker,
the soul-taker, my camera;
its factory guaranteed
third eye, without which I am duly dim
and memory denied. No pictures
for my contrived Arbus to declare,
excepting some stitch of Sexton
manages these sentences
of despair.
”
―
―
“
It is snowing and death bugs me
as stubborn as insomnia.
”
―
―
