Between 9am And 3pm Is When I

Where I Lived - Winter And Hard Earth.i Sat In My Cold Stone Roomchoosing Tough Words, Granite, Flint,to Break The Ice. My Broken Heart -i Tried That, But It Skimmed,flat, Over The Frozen Lake.she Came From A Long, Long Way,but I Saw Her At Last, Walking,my Daughter, My Girl, Across The Fields,in Bare Feet, Bringing All Spring's Flowersto Her Mother's House. I Swearthe Air Softened And Warmed As She Moved,the Blue Sky Smiling, None Too Soon,with The Small Shy Mouth Of A New Moon.

How Would You Prepare To Die On A Perfect April Evening?

It's Always Good When Women Win Things In Fiction Because It Tends To Be More Male-dominated, Unlike Poetry, Which Is More Equal

Time Hates Love, Wants Love Poor,/but Love Spins Gold, Gold, Gold From Straw.

Poets Deal In Writing About Feelings And Trying To Find The Language And Images For Intense Feelings.