The Body Is Simple As

I Am A Driven Writer. I Feel Guilty If I Don't Write, Not Self-indulgent If I Do.

Like Species, Couples Die Out Or Evolve.

The Mind Wraps Itself Around A Poem. It Is Almost Sensual, Particularly If You Work On A Computer. You Can Turn The Poem Round And About And Upside Down, Dancing With It A Kind Of Bolero Of Two Snakes Twisting And Coiling, Until The Poem Has Found Its Right And Proper Shape.

I Never Thought Of Myself As Explaining Cats In General. I Simply Viewed The Cats I Have Known As Characters In My Life, Often As Quirky And Complex As The Humans With Whom I Have Spent Time.

Now That I Am In My Forties, She [my Mother] Tells Me I'm Beautiful; Now That I Am In My Forties, She Sends Me Presents And We Have The Long, Personal And Even Remarkably Honest Phone Calls I Always Wanted So Intensely I Forbade Myself To Imagine Them. How Strange. Perhaps Shaw Was Correct And If We Lived To Be Several Hundred Years Old, We Would Finally Work It All Out. I Am Deeply Grateful. With My Poems, I Finally Won Even My Mother. The Longest Wooing Of My Life.