In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

16 Underdeveloped I make of my poems A cushion for my tired head, For I have known fear From my mother’s hands. My mind sickened By milk from her breasts I now twirl my tongue Round mammalian taste. Like puppies Licking their lips After a drink of milk. But puppies are nice With their paws and their tails While I sense my height and my years. ...

Share