Writing Is A Futile Attempt To Preserve

Depressions, Local And Larger Strikes, Boom Times, Wars, Repressions, All Impact A Life As Do Epidemics Such As Aids And Pollution That May Take Years Off A Person's Life. We All, Whether We Like It Or Not And Whether We Acknowledge It Or Not, Are Impacted By The Racial Attitudes We Carry Within Us, And Experience In Some Form Every Time We Turn On The Television, The Radio, Go To A Movie, Read A Magazine Or A Newspaper, Or Walk Down The Street.

Any Life Is Lived In A Particular Time And Place. Every Life Is Impacted By The Family's Socio-economic Circumstances, And, In Later Life, By The Person's.

Now That I Am In My Forties, She [my Mother] Tells Me I'm Beautiful; Now That I Am In My Forties, She Sends Me Presents And We Have The Long, Personal And Even Remarkably Honest Phone Calls I Always Wanted So Intensely I Forbade Myself To Imagine Them. How Strange. Perhaps Shaw Was Correct And If We Lived To Be Several Hundred Years Old, We Would Finally Work It All Out. I Am Deeply Grateful. With My Poems, I Finally Won Even My Mother. The Longest Wooing Of My Life.

When I Work I Am Pure As An Angel Tiger And Clear Is My Eye And Hot My Brain And Silent All The Whining Grunting Piglets Of The Appetites.

The Politics Of The Exile Are Fever, Revenge, Daydream, Theater Of The Aging Convalescent. You Wait In The Wings And Rehearse. You Wait And Wait.