“As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.”

“and God was there like an island I had not rowed to,still ignorant of Him, my arms, and my legs worked,and I grew, I grew,I wore rubies and bought tomatoesand now, in my middle age,about nineteen in the head I'd say,I am rowing, I am rowingthough the oarlocks stick and are rustyand the sea blinks and rollslike a worried eyebal,but I am rowing, I am rowing,though the wind pushes me backand I know that that island will not be perfect,it will have the flaws of life,the absurdities of the dinner table,but there will be a doorand I will open itand I will get rid of the rat insdie me,the gnawing pestilential rat.God will take it with his two handsand embrace it”

“And we are magic talking to itself, noisy and alone. I am queen of all my sins forgotten. Am I still lost? Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself”

“I am God, la de dah.”

“I am your dwarf.I am the enemy within.I am the boss of your dreams.See. Your hand shakes.It is not palsy or booze.It is your Doppelgangertrying to get out.Beware...Beware...”

“Now I am going back And I have ripped my hand From your hand as I said I would And I have made it this far ...”

“Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself,Counting this row and that row of moccasinsWaiting on the silent shelf.”