Poets Sing Our Human Music For Us.

Like The Sand And The Oyster, It's A Creative Irritant. In Each Poem, I'm Trying To Reveal A Truth, So It Can't Have A Fictional Beginning.

If We Think Of What's Up Ahead, With Climate Change And Wars Over Water, It's Very Frightening.

Where I Lived - Winter And Hard Earth.i Sat In My Cold Stone Roomchoosing Tough Words, Granite, Flint,to Break The Ice. My Broken Heart -i Tried That, But It Skimmed,flat, Over The Frozen Lake.she Came From A Long, Long Way,but I Saw Her At Last, Walking,my Daughter, My Girl, Across The Fields,in Bare Feet, Bringing All Spring's Flowersto Her Mother's House. I Swearthe Air Softened And Warmed As She Moved,the Blue Sky Smiling, None Too Soon,with The Small Shy Mouth Of A New Moon.

What Do I Haveto Help Me, Without Spell Or Prayer,endure This Hour, Endless, Heartless, Anonymous,the Death Of Love?

It's Always Good When Women Win Things In Fiction Because It Tends To Be More Male-dominated, Unlike Poetry, Which Is More Equal