I Said, The Poets Are There I

I Would Sell My Life To Avoid The Pain That Begins In The Crib With Its Bars Or Perhaps With Your First Breath When The Planets Drill Your Future Into You.

Now I Am Just An Elderly Lady Who Is Full Of Spleen, Who Humps Around Greater Boston In A God-awful Hat, Who Never Lived And Yet Outlived Her Time, Hating Men And Dogs And Democrats.

Letters Are False Really - They Are Expressions Of The Way You Wish You Were Instead Of The Way You Are.

Pulling Off The Fat Diamond Engagement Ring, Pulling Off The Elopement Wedding Ring, And Holding Them, Clicking Them In Thumb And Forefinger, The Indent Of Twenty-five Years, Like A Tiny Rip Leaving Its Mark.

I Am Teaching... This Year It's Kind Of Like Having A Love Affair With A Rhinoceros.