Everyone Is So Different. I

Poems Come From Ordinary Experiences And Objects, I Think. Out Of Memory - A Dress I Lent My Daughter On Her Way Back To College; A Newspaper Photograph Of War; A Breast Self-exam; The Tooth Fairy; Calvinist Parents Who Beat Up Their Children; A Gesture Of Love; Seeing Oneself Naked Over Age 50 In A Set Of Bright Hotel Bathroom Mirrors.

The Teaching Is Very Rewarding, And Very Time-consuming, And Very Exhausting. But It's Wonderful. The Community Here At Nyu Is Very Precious To Me.

Poets Are Like Steam Valves, Where The Ordinary Feelings Of Ordinary People Can Escape And Be Shown.

Everyone Is So Different. I Sometimes Wish I Wrote In A Different Way. You Know, That Feeling Of: So-and-so Writes Slowly, If Only I Wrote Slowly.

Maybe In Order To Understand Sex Fully/one Has To Risk Being Destroyed By It.