Writing is conversation delayed. Speech that delays is dishonest. Writing waits to be paid. I'll speak, but only if I must. I prefer a song--- oh it's easier when the frivolous is wrong. I let the phone ring. Talk scares me. I befriend myself in my poetry. I can't revise what I say. I can't adjust myself to another who smells on me the unease between my sister and my mother. You and I are dishonest. That's known before we speak. The whole premise of live speaking is unbelievably weak. What did you want to say to me? Bad news, I'll bet. The world spins and you tell me things I would rather forget. Are you insulted? Are we fighting? Go away. I've got to do some writing.
