My Magnum Opus:

“Is it? Is my work going to live? I wanted to be a writer, that’s all, I wanted to write about it all – everything that happens in a moment – the way the flowers look when you carry them in your arms, how it smells, how it feels. All of our feelings – yours more

Journal entry:

My children and I weren’t born with silver spoons in our mouths: quite often we were alone together and their fathers were absent for whatever reason. There were no hands-on grandparents to help out, no high-flying career to bail us out of tough financial times. But you know what? You don’t get strong by swimming more

A quandary, a quandary:

Hermits would rather write, Far into the night, And watch their words take flight. And pickled men will lose the fight, When they see that she won’t bite, She wants their sex, But that’s not right! Unless she slaves for them in the daylight, Dragging up their brats, With all of her might, So stick more

Of ponies, saxaphones and pretty ballerinas:

“I want a pony, mummy!” Six years to go, Twelve down, And six more years to go! Mummy disappears into herself, With pen and paper of course, Invisible Mummy, Uncaring Mummy, Hard to get along with Mummy, The circumstances of, The girl’s conception, Are blasted through the saxaphone, As her Ballerina twirls in front of more