I Sometimes Imagine That As One Grows

There Are Some Griefs So Loud/they Could Bring Down The Sky/and There Are Griefs So Still/none Knows How Deep They Lie.

Inside My Mother's Death / I Lay And Could Not Breathe.

One Of The Springs Of Poetry Is Joy.

I Write Poems About Relationships, Love Relationships, And I'm Not Able To Do That All The Time. I Could Go Two Years Without Writing Poems, And Then Write A Dozen. Having A Novel To Work On, With The Intricate Puzzle Of Character And Plot To Work Out, Is Satisfying For The Time There Is No Poetry.

Do Not Deprive Me Of My Age. I Have Earned It.