FUNNEL The family story tells, and it was told true,of my great-grandfather who begat eightgenius children and bought twelve almost newgrand pianos. Unto the bellies and jawsof rats I commit my prophecy and fear. The book evolved very much at my urging, and gathered momentumas it grew.
Two male Ph. I chooseyour only way, my small inheritorand hand you off, trembling the selves we lose. Old ornament, old naked fist,even if I put on seventy coats I could not cover you A cave of a mirrorplaced on the south wall;matching smile, matching contour.
For a time as a young woman, she modeled at Boston's Hart Agency. Anti-Love Poems. Related Content. Greg Johnson on: "Her Kind".
Of course, I love you;you lean above the plastic sky,god of our block, prince of all the foxes. God knowsI thought I'd die — but here I am,recalling mother, the sound of hergood morning, the odor of orange and jam. Six times a day I prizeyour need, the animals of your lips, your skingrowing warm and plump.