No, I won't try to escape myself by losing myself in artificial chatter 'Did you have a nice vacation?' 'Oh, yes, and you?' I'll stay here and try to pin that loneliness down.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year~old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.

There is more than one good way to drown.

What did my fingers do before they held him? What did my heart do, with its love?

I don't know what started me, I just wrote poetry from the time was quite small. I guess I liked nursery rhymes and I guess I thought I could do the same thing. I wrote my first poem, my first published poem, when I was eight-and-a-half years old. It came out in The Boston Traveller and from then on, I suppose, I've been a bit of a professional.

I am silver and exact.I have no preconceptions.

It's a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It's much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.