| Description: |
I am the poet who called herself an animal. My name makes itself heard; Pleasure runs through my electric face. My body, an airless structure on the great stage of the world, Is a mother who refuses, a daughter who insists. The power of my longing fills all with deep pain; I scream very quietly in a made-up language. Angry and sad, I make love with strangers Who slip into my room with stones To hide the facts of my existence.
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| Group Members: |
http://www.briandamage.blogspot.com
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