In A Dream You Are Never Eighty.

Being Sixteen In The Pants I Died Full Of Questions

I Tell It Stories Now And Then And Feed It Images Like Honey. I Will Not Speculate Today With Poems That Think They're Money.

And We Are Magic Talking To Itself, Noisy And Alone. I Am Queen Of All My Sins Forgotten. Am I Still Lost? Once I Was Beautiful. Now I Am Myself

Take Adultery Or Theft. Merely Sins. It Is Evil Who Dines On The Soul, Stretching Out Its Long Bone Tongue. It Is Evil Who Tweezers My Heart, Picking Out Its Atomic Worms.

There Is An Animal Inside Me, Clutching Fast To My Heart, A Huge Crab.