I am so wise I had my mouth sewn shut.
I think that what happens in my poetic work in the future will depend on my being knocked in the face, and thrown flat, and given cancer, and all kinds of other things short of senile dementia.
Them lady poets must not marry, pal.
That is our ‘pointed task. Love & die.
Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
We must travel in the direction of our fear.