What Will You Do Now With The

As Anyone Who Has The Slightest Knowledge Of My Work Knows, I Have Little In Common With Larkin, Who Was Tall, Taciturn And Thin-on-top, And Unlike Him I Laugh, Nay, Sneer, In The Face Of Death. I Will Concede One Point: We Are Both Lesbian Poets.

Where I Lived - Winter And Hard Earth.i Sat In My Cold Stone Roomchoosing Tough Words, Granite, Flint,to Break The Ice. My Broken Heart -i Tried That, But It Skimmed,flat, Over The Frozen Lake.she Came From A Long, Long Way,but I Saw Her At Last, Walking,my Daughter, My Girl, Across The Fields,in Bare Feet, Bringing All Spring's Flowersto Her Mother's House. I Swearthe Air Softened And Warmed As She Moved,the Blue Sky Smiling, None Too Soon,with The Small Shy Mouth Of A New Moon.

I Grew Up In A Bookless House - My Parents Didn't Read Poetry, So If I Hadn't Had The Chance To Experience It At School I'd Never Have Experienced It. But I Loved English, And I Was Very Lucky In That I Had Inspirational English Teachers, Miss Scriven And Mr. Walker, And They Liked Us To Learn Poems By Heart, Which I Found I Loved Doing.

When You Have A Child, Your Previous Life Seems Like Someone Else's. It's Like Living In A House And Suddenly Finding A Room You Didn't Know Was There, Full Of Treasure And Light.

I Have Piles Of Poetry Books In The Bathroom, On The Stairs, Everywhere. The Only Way To Write Poetry Is To Read It.