I Believe Poetry Has Very Little To

I Offer Emily Half Of My Hit Of Acid- Love Saves The Day. It's My Second Or Third Time Tripping, Emily's First, And She's Understandably Trepid. Awake All Night, At One Point I Find Her Touching Her Reflection In A Cruelly Lit Dorm Bathroom, Asking If She'll Ever Be The Same. I Kiss Her Then For The First Time And Whisper, No.

When I Was A Child, Writing Was The Worst Possible Choice Of A Career In My Family.

If You're Going To Write About Someone's Life, You Don't Just Use Them For Wallpaper. You Have To Honor And Respect That Life.

If It Had Been A Heart Attack, The Newspapermight Have Used The Word Massive,as If A Mountain Range Had Openedinside Her, But Insteadit Used The Word Suddenly, A Light Coming Onin An Empty Room. The Telephonefell From My Shoulder, A Black Parrot Repeatingsomething Happened, Something Awfula Sunday, Dusky. If It Had Beenterminal, We Could Have Cradled Heras She Grew Smaller, Wiped Her Mouth,said Good-bye. But It Was Sudden,how Overnight We Could Be Orphaned& The World Became A Bell We'd Crawl Inside& The Ringing All We'd Eat.

I Can Weep Pretty Easily. I Can Get Tears In My Eyes From A Beautiful Work Of Art.