The Place I Live In Is A

I'll Vacuum Up My Stale Hair, I'll Pay All My Neighbors' Bad Debts, I'll Write A Poem Called Yellow And Put My Lips Down To Drink It Up.

I Am Not Lazy. I Am On The Amphetamine Of The Soul. I Am, Each Day, Typing Out The God My Typewriter Believes In.

The Tongue, The Chinese Say, Is Like A Sharp Knife: It Kills Without Drawing Blood.

The Sea Is Mother-death And She Is A Mighty Female, The One Who Wins, The One Who Sucks Us All Up.

Those Moments Before A Poem Comes, When The Heightened Awareness Comes Over You, And You Realize A Poem Is Buried There Somewhere, You Prepare Yourself. I Run Around, You Know, Kind Of Skipping Around The House, Marvelous Elation. It’s As Though I Could Fly.