Return to Diane Green Poetry

As if all those other poems and paintings and jobs and songs 

were shavings

for the night maid to sweep up. 

This is it. Quality. Perfection. 

No shit.

Look it over.
Look it up and down.

Under, behind, inside and out.

Lovers friends children ancestors ghosts demons and angels

This one's for you,

Stay thirsty my friends.

The best student always failing,

loves failing again,

Her spiraling human disfortune has floundered diving into pools of

gone

madness is not only a myth a burden

a caricature of itself

it is the lifeboat

sinking and rising

again and again