O NCE upon a summer day, a young girl sat reading in her favorite flower patch a purloined copy of Alan Ginsberg, which she pirated from her Mother's secret hiding place for it....

T H E WINTER sky in the west was shot wilh purple. Th e * red, steady sun, alreidy set. had left behind a half-circle that glowed on the horizon with the icy radiance of pink quartz. But gray December clouds hung low over Belleville, so the glow did not touch the town...

in her little hand she cupped the furry moth and curled her fingers slowly over it to keep it from flying away and she brought it close to her face and talked to it dearly as if she were talking to her own child a child that she had once wished for but never could have and after she spoke to it she picked it u p gently by its wings closed her loving eyes and ate it...