To Be Without God Is To Be

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

You Must Be A Poet, A Lady Of Evil Luck Desiring To Be What You Are Not, Longing To Be What You Can Only Visit.

Let God Be Some Tribal Female Who Is Known But Forbidden.

Now, In My Middle Age, About Nineteen In The Head I'd Say, I Am Rowing, I Am Rowing.

Images Are The Heart Of Poetry ... You're Not A Poet Without Imagery.