Burning Dinner Is Not Incompetence

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.

Writing Is A Futile Attempt To Preserve What Disappears Moment By Moment.

Live As If You Like Yourself, And It May Happen.

I Don't Even Remember What Mother And I Quarreled About: It Is A Continual Quarrel That Began When I Reached Puberty.

The Incidence Of Violent Brand-loyalty To One's Own Current Dogma Has Risen.