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Dear Baby

There're these kids follow me everywhere
mumblin sumthin bout cigrets an please an
shovin shoe-shine boxes under m'feet.
This's been goin down for weeks, Gypsies
high in their bathtubs
an me in a bottle a Beam.
If I don't climb out soon baby
the last you'll knows
the knuckle sandwich
we shared at breakfast
the day you split for good.

Barcelona Diary
It's Mother's Day
By Dawn's Early Light at 120 Miles Per Hour
The Man With His Back To The Room
Intimacies, Prose. Poems and Stories
Homage to a Widow
It's Only TV
Improvisations - Chapbook
After Goya
Improvisations - From Contemporary Music
Mustering What's Left