I should not need fear
being grateful for blessings...

Some of you children must go to the stars
please take my ashes, they're ever so light...

My final night in the desert isle
that is San Antonio; dark...

Hardly invisible certainly not six feet tall
this storm reduces hope through the hours...

Each man's hand itches
when he sees the sword impaled...

The kitchen is empty
the corner you slept in...

She wore white to his funeral
some say it was the same dress...

Nothing I submit
lays claim as original...

A ruined stick
a burnt match...

What you see of me is a shadow,
I have already passed on...

When you are this sick
time collapses on itself...

My aunt never married;
on occasion my mother...