After A Full Belly All Is Poetry.

I've Been Writing In Notebooks For 40 Years Or So.

Sing Your Song. Dance Your Dance. Tell Your Tale.

In The High School Classroom You Are A Drill Sergent, A Rabbi, A Shoulder To Cry On, A Disciplinarian, A Singer, A Low-level Scholar, A Clerk, A Referee, A Clown, A Counselor, A Dress-code Enforcer, A Conductor, An Apologist, A Philosopher, A Collaborator, A Tap Dancer, A Politician, A Therapist, A Fool, A Traffic Cop, A Priest, A Mother-father-brother-sister-uncle-aunt, A Bookeeper, A Critic, A Psychologist, The Last Straw.

I Told Her Tea Bags Were Just A Convenience For People With Busy Lives And She Said No One Is So Busy They Can't Take Time To Make A Decent Cup Of Tea And If You Are That Busy You Don't Deserve A Decent Cup Of Tea For What Is It All About Anyway? Are We Put Into This World To Be Busy Or To Chat Over A Nice Cup Of Tea?

When I Look Back On My Childhood I Wonder How I Survived At All. It Was, Of Course, A Miserable Childhood: The Happy Childhood Is Hardly Worth Your While. Worse Than The Ordinary Miserable Childhood Is The Miserable Irish Childhood, And Worse Yet Is The Miserable Irish Catholic Childhood.