She Stood Upon A Continent Of Ice,

I Like To Use Simple Words, But In A Complicated Way.

I Am Always Pleased To Be Asked To Write A Poem.

Auden Said Poetry Makes Nothing Happen. But I Wonder If The Opposite Could Be True. It Could Make Something Happen.

The Poem Is A Form Of Texting... It's The Original Text. It's A Perfecting Of A Feeling In Language - It's A Way Of Saying More With Less, Just As Texting Is.

Where I Lived - Winter And Hard Earth.i Sat In My Cold Stone Roomchoosing Tough Words, Granite, Flint,to Break The Ice. My Broken Heart -i Tried That, But It Skimmed,flat, Over The Frozen Lake.she Came From A Long, Long Way,but I Saw Her At Last, Walking,my Daughter, My Girl, Across The Fields,in Bare Feet, Bringing All Spring's Flowersto Her Mother's House. I Swearthe Air Softened And Warmed As She Moved,the Blue Sky Smiling, None Too Soon,with The Small Shy Mouth Of A New Moon.