A Refugee Population Is Hungry

[short Talk On Sylvia Plath] Did You See Her Mother On Television? She Said Plain, Burned Things. She Said I Thought It An Excellent Poem But It Hurt Me. She Did Not Say Jungle Fear. She Did Not Say Jungle Hatred Wild Jungle Weeping Chop It Back Chop It. She Said Self-government She Said End Of The Road. She Did Not Say Humming In The Middle Of The Air What You Came For Chop.

Love Dares The Self To Leave Itself Behind, To Enter Into Poverty.

Up Against Another Human Being One's Own Procedures Take On Definition

A Page With A Poem On It Is Less Attractive Than A Page With A Poem On It And Some Tea Stains.

Under The Seams Runs The Pain.