So

I know the road winds here as if in ignominy as I dream yet another fantasy and try to cling on to you my rebel words do not leave me alone in ecstasy or defeat walking jostled among markets people memories do not show me your smirk again or sound your cymbals of insanity . . . I recall the music ends here when I die and listen to the strains of yet another road not walked body not blessed woman not scripted when benedictions shower from above in agelessness in inanity

No

Word can stay with me today as I prepare for lines that have to be encountered such as never before like being a writer in residence talking to students around a fire that is white like the bleak meaning of sentences hanging loose in corners sharp and indifferent for what they are worth and their treachery that is rabid like their edges and hangs and gutters and your spaces rampant that hardly make up my keyboard

And

I sit before you today and yesterday and sip tea without sugar to make life easier and cheaper without strings attached and rephrase apologies for what I do not know as the garden somehow blurs around the edges and smudges like mascara that is without vanity