Once I Was Beautiful. Now I Am

I Think I've Been Writing Black Poems All Along, Wearing My White Mask. I'm Always The Victim ... But No Longer!

Talk To Me About Sadness. I Talk About It Too Much In My Own Head But I Never Mind Others Talking About It Either; I Occasionally Feel Like I Tremendously Need Others To Talk About It As Well.

Someone Is Dead. Even The Trees Know It, Those Poor Old Dancers Who Come On Lewdly, All Pea-green Scarfs And Spine Pole.

Images Are Probably The Most Important Part Of The Poem. First Of All You Want To Tell A Story, But Images Are What Are Going To Shore It Up And Get To The Heart Of The Matter.

It Was As If A Morning-glory Had Bloomed In Her Throat, And All That Blue And Small Pollen Ate Into My Heart, Violent And Religious