I Grow Old On My Bitterness.

Craft Is A Trick You Make Up To Let You Write The Poem.

Today Life Opened Inside Me Like An Egg.

There Is A Good Look That I Wear Like A Blood Clot. I Have Sewn It Over My Left Breast. I Have Made A Vocation Of It.

You Who Have Inhabited Me In The Deepest And Most Broken Place, Are Going, Going

The Witch's Life" When I Was A Child There Was An Old Woman In Our Neighborhood Whom We Called The Witch. All Day She Peered From Her Second Story Window From Behind The Wrinkled Curtains And Sometimes She Would Open The Window And Yell: Get Out Of My Life! She Had Hair Like Kelp And A Voice Like A Boulder. I Think Of Her Sometimes Now And Wonder If I Am Becoming Her.