Destiny is asmiling bastardriding a motorcyclethrough theneighborhood, laughingat children playing inyards, eaten by worms andtime.PinkgreenwhiteKeliedescope confusion on allthe cat's faces.Providence is a stealthy hunter.

Without poetry, we'd allbe chained to fences of time.locked in,torn apart,played with by thecosmic dance.Don't get me wrong,the poems can'tcure cancer, or heal thelame dog's leg.But, they might givethe whores hope, and thehobos a home.Poetry tricks the mindinto seeing...