I would say everything should be able to come into a poem, but I can't put toothbrushes into a poem, I really can't!

I inhabit the wax image of myself, a doll's body. Sickness begins here; I am a dartboard for witches.

What I hate is the thought of being under a man's thumb," I had told Doctor Nolan. "A man doesn't have a worry in the world, while I've got a baby hanging over my head like a big stick, to keep me in line.

I believe that one should be able to control and manipulate experiences, even the most terrific, like madness, being tortured, this sort of experience, and one should be able to manipulate these experiences with an informed and an intelligent mini.

See, the darkness is leaking from the cracks. I cannot contain it. I cannot contain my life.

Life was not to be sitting in hot amorphic leisure in my backyard idly writing or not writing, as the spirit moved me. It was, instead, running madly, in a crowded schedule, in a squirrel cage of busy people. Working, living, dancing, dreaming, talking, kissing- singing, laughing, learning.

I think the coming of spring, the stars overhead, the first snowfall and so on are gifts for a child, a young poet.