All My Life I Have Lived And

Heaven Is Not Like Flying Or Swimming, But Has Something To Do With Blackness And A Strong Glare.

Dreams Were The Worst. Of Course I Dreamed Of Food And Love, But They Were Pleasant Rather Than Otherwise. But Then I'd Dream Of Things Like Slitting A Baby's Throat, Mistaking It For A Baby Goat. I'd Have Nightmares Of Other Islands Stretching Away From Mine, Infinities Of Islands, Islands Spawning Islands, Like Frogs' Eggs Turning Into Polliwogs Of Islands, Knowing That I Had To Live On Each And Every One, Eventually, For Ages, Registering Their Flora, Their Fauna, Their Geography.

Being A Poet Is One Of The Unhealthier Jobs--no Regular Hours, So Many Temptations!

Insomnia" Perhaps She's A Daytime Sleeper.

I Was Made At Right Angles To The World And I See It So. I Can Only See It So.