In Freeing Myself From The Romantic Dream

I Am Not Quite Sure How Writing Changes Things, But I Know That It Does. It Is Indirect-like The Trails Of Earthworms Aerating The Earth. It Is Not Always Deliberate-like The Tails Of Glowing Dust Dragged By Comets.

There Is Nothing Fiercer Than A Failed Artist. The Energy Remains, But, Having No Outlet, It Implodes In A Great Black Fart Of Rage Which Smokes Up All The Inner Windows Of The Soul. Horrible As Successful Artists Often Are, There Is Nothing Crueler Or More Vain Than A Failed Artist.

We Write Poems / As Leaves Give Oxygen - / So We Can Breathe.

You Can't Be Creative And Still Be A Good Girl.

I Never Became A Writer For The Money. I Am A Poet First. Even Getting Published Is A Miracle For Poets.