A Ring Of Gold With The Sun

I Thought How Strange It Had Never Occurred To Me Before That I Was Only Purely Happy Until I Was Nine Years Old.

Out Of The Ash I Rise With My Red Hair And I Eat Men Like Air.

I Love My Rejection Slips. They Show Me I Try.

I Wish You’d Find The Exit Out Of My Head.

Perhaps You Considered Yourself An Oracle, Mouthpiece Of The Dead, Or Of Some God Or Other. Thirty Years Now I Have Labored To Dredge The Silt From Your Throat. I Am None The Wiser.