Analysis of these poems is strictly forbidden. (p. 10)

Is it hard to write poetry? / Yes, I would say it is. For instance / in this poem I didn't know whether to start / by talking about the scrambled eggs / or the Smith Corona. And I didn't have / a lot of time to think about it / because I simply had to start the poem, / it was that urgent, and then you have to torture yourself / wondering if it's all right to write about writing / and you always break your resolve. / It's as if writing has a will of its own / and wants to be written about / just like Margaret Hollingsworth's / typewriter. (p. 75)

For eighteen years I saw you every day. For the next eighteen / I saw you every Sunday. And now I see you once or twice a year. / Some day, maybe soon, we'll be permanently separated by death. (p. 103)