The Joy That Isn't Shared Dies Young.

There Is An Animal Inside Me, Clutching Fast To My Heart, A Huge Crab.

I Was Only Sitting Here In My White Study With The Awful Black Words Pushing Me Around.

I Remember The Stink Of The Liverwurst. How I Was Put On A Platter And Laid Between The Mayonnaise And The Bacon. The Rhythm Of The Refrigerator Had Been Disturbed.

In A Dream You Are Never Eighty.

There Is Joy In All: In The Hair I Brush Each Morning, In The Cannon Towel, Newly Washed, That I Rub My Body With Each Morning.