Sometimes I fly like an eagle but with the wings of a wren

Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself, Counting this row and that row of moccasins Waiting on the silent shelf.

Poetry to me is prayer.

the marriage twists, holds firm, a sailor's knot.

I like you; your eyes are full of language." [Letter to Anne Clarke, July 3, 1964.]

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.

Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.