Even Amidst Fierce Flames The Golden Lotus

I Lean To You, Numb As A Fossil. Tell Me I'm Here.

The Sky Leans On Me, Me, The One Upright Among All Horizontals.

The Reason I Haven't Been Writing In This Book For So Long Is Partly That I Haven't Had One Decent Coherent Thought To Put Down.

Winter Is For Women The Woman Still At Her Knitting, At The Cradle Of Spanish Walnut, Her Body A Bulb In The Cold And Too Dumb To Think.

When They Asked Me What I Wanted To Be I Said I Didn't Know.