September 8, 2008
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Lines
I think of lines to write as I’m lying in bed, just on the edge of conciousness.
So much of my poetry is raw, jagged on the edges. It’s obvious, right in your face. Is that my style? In confrontation I tend to allow myself to be battered. It’s the reaction of victims. But in poetry I can say everything I didn’t that time, I can be myself. I’m pretty sure I know who I am, and I need to get out of this place to be that person.
I hate money.
