Thumbs Grow Into My Throat. I Wear

The Joy That Isn't Shared Dies Young.

I Like You; Your Eyes Are Full Of Language." [letter To Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]

Our Eyes Are Full Of Terrible Confessions.

And Thus Snow White Became The Prince's Bride. The Wicked Queen Was Invited To The Wedding Feast And When She Arrived There Were Red-hot Iron Shoes, In The Manner Of Red-hot Roller Skates, Clamped Upon Her Feet.

Poems Aren't Postcards To Send Home.