A Thinking Woman Sleeps With Monsters.

We Might Possess Every Technological Resource... But If Our Language Is Inadequate, Our Vision Remains Formless, Our Thinking And Feeling Are Still Running In The Old Cycles, Our Process May Be 'revolutionary' But Not Transformative.

Tv Has Created A Kind Of False Collectivity.

Your Mind Now, Moldering Like Wedding-cake, Heavy With Useless Experience, Rich With Suspicion, Rumour, Fantasy, Crumbling To Pieces Under The Knife-edge Of Mere Fact. In The Prime Of Your Life.

Increasingly I Think Of Poetry As A Theatre Of Voices, Not As Coming From A Single "i" Or From Any One Position. I Want To Imagine Voices Different From My Own.

The Password Is A Flicker Of An Eyelash.