Wallowing In This Bloody Sty, I Cast

But Sometimes Everything I Write With The Threadbare Art Of My Eye Seems A Snapshot

Talking About The Past Is Like A Cat's Trying To Explain Climbing Down A Ladder.

Life Begins To Happen. My Hoppped Up Husband Drops His Home Disputes, And Hits The Streets To Cruise For Prostitutes

Most Poetry Is Very Formal, But When A Modern Poet Is Formal He Gets More Attention For It Than Old Poets Did.

And Blue-lung'd Combers Lumbered To The Kill.