The Soul Was Not Cured, It Was

There Is An Animal Inside Me, Clutching Fast To My Heart, A Huge Crab.

I'm An Empress. I Wear An Apron. My Typewriter Writes. It Didn't Break The Way It Warned. Even Crazy, I'm As Nice As A Chocolate Bar.

Death's In The Good-bye.

One Of My Secret Instructions To Myself As A Poet Is "whatever You Do, Don't Be Boring."

Of Course The New Testament Is Very Small. Its Mouth Opens Four Times As Out-of-date As A Prehistoric Monster, Yet Somehow Man-made.