No One To Hate Except The Slim

I Was The Girl Of The Chain Letter, The Girl Full Of Talk Of Coffins And Keyholes, The One Of The Telephone Bills, The Wrinkled Photo And The Lost Connections.

One Can't Build Little White Picket Fences To Keep Nightmares Out.

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.

Writers Are Such Phonies: They Sometimes Have Wise Insights But They Don't Live By Them At All. That's What Writers Are Like...you Think They Know Something, But Usually They Are Just Messes.

Poetry Is My Life, My Postmark, My Hands, My Kitchen, My Face.