I Would Like A Simple Life /

Well, One Gets Out Of Bed And The Planets Don't Always Hiss Or Muck Up The Day, Each Day.

This Is What Poems Are: With Mercy For The Greedy, They Are The Tongue's Wrangle, The World's Pottage, The Rat's Star.

I, In My Brand New Body, Which Was Not A Woman's Yet, Told The Stars My Questions And Thought God Could Really See The Heat And The Painted Light, Elbows, Knees, Dreams, Goodnight.

I Put The Gold Star Up In The Front Window Beside The Flag. Alterations Is What I Know And What I Did: Hems, Gussets And Seams.

Only My Books Anoint Me, And A Few Friends, Those Who Reach Into My Veins.