I Mourn In Grey, Grey As The

I Stayed Under The Moon Too Long.i Am Silvered With Lust.dreams Flick Like Minnows Through My Eyes.my Voice Is Trees Tossing In The Wind.i Loose Myself Like A Flock Of Blackbirdsstorming Into Your Face.my Lightest Touch Leaves Blue Prints,bruises On Your Mind.desire Sandpapers Your Skinso Thin I Read The Veins And Arteriesmaps Of Routes I Will Traveltill I Lodge In Your Spine.the Night Is Our Fur.we Curl Inside It Licking.

Memory In Greek Mythology Is The Mother Of The Muses, And It Is So For Me. Both Personal And Societal Memory Move Me Strongly, And That Is One Of The Sources Of My Writing.

It's Really Important To Visit A Site You Are Writing About. Even If You Know It Well, Even If You Have Lived There, It's Important To Take A Fresh Look In Terms Of Your Characters And Your Story.

One Of The Best Gifts You Can Give A Poet Is To Present Them With Field Guides - To Rocks, To Stars, To Birds, To Wildflowers, To Trees And Bushes, To Butterflies, To Reptiles And Amphibians. Because When You Look At Anything Long Enough To Be Able To Identify It, You See Far More Clearly And You Make A Tiny Beginning At Understanding The Life, The Place, The History Of That Bird Or Rock Or Mammal.

I Think We Validate Our Lives Through Our Actions.