I Do Not Know Who I Am

But Life Is Long. And It Is The Long Run That Balances The Short Flare Of Interest And Passion.

That Afternoon My Mother Had Brought Me The Roses. "save Them For My Funeral," I'd Said.

As A Poet, One Lives A Bit On Air. I Always Like Someone Who Can Teach Me Something Practical.

The Sun Gives You Ulcers, The Wind Gives You T.b. Once You Were Beautiful.

Nothing Is Real Except The Present, And Already, I Feel The Weight Of Centuries Smothering Me. Some Girl A Hundred Years Ago Once Lived As I Do. And She Is Dead. I Am The Present, But I Know I, Too, Will Pass. The High Moment, The Burning Flash, Come And Are Gone, Continuous Quicksand. And I Don’t Want To Die.