I Believe That Poetry Is

I Remember Nothing Of This, No Ambulance Rides, Nothing. Nothing Between Switching Out The Bedside Lamp And The Sudden Indignity Of Rebirth: The Slaps, The Brightness, The Tubing, The Speed, The Urgent Insistence That I Be Choked Back Into Breathing Life. I Have Felt So Sorry For Babies Ever Since.

I Was Happy There. Which Is To Say I Was Not Unhappy There. Unhappiness And Happiness I Have Always Been Able To Carry About With Me, Irrespective Of Place And People, Because I Have Never Joined In.

Stop Feeling Sorry For Yourself And You Will Be Happy.

In A Dung Heap, Even A Plastic Bead Can Gleam Like A Sapphire.

Estate Agents: Like Them Or Loathe Them, You'd Be Mad Not To Loathe Them.