The Older I Get, The More I

I Was A Late Bloomer. But Anyone Who Blooms At All, Ever, Is Very Lucky.

I Have Learned To Get Pleasure From Speaking Of Pain

Poems Come From Ordinary Experiences And Objects, I Think. Out Of Memory - A Dress I Lent My Daughter On Her Way Back To College; A Newspaper Photograph Of War; A Breast Self-exam; The Tooth Fairy; Calvinist Parents Who Beat Up Their Children; A Gesture Of Love; Seeing Oneself Naked Over Age 50 In A Set Of Bright Hotel Bathroom Mirrors.

Maybe In Order To Understand Sex Fully/one Has To Risk Being Destroyed By It.

I Did Not Know Him, I Knew My Idea Of Him.