Juvenilia

My mother continues to downsize. The boxes she passes on to me are getting smaller and smaller. The latest is a shoebox with my earliest writings.

Here is something I wrote in 1975, when I was thirteen:

i f e e l m y s e l f d i s i n t e g r a t i n g

b r e a k i n g u p l i k e p o l a r i c e

y e t i r e m a i n o u t s i d e m y s e l f

w o n d e r i n g w h i c h f l o e

t o j u m p t o

( i f a t a l l )