Readers will be pleased at the sheer size of Kizers Cool, Calm, and Collected Poems. After all, we are accustomed to equate care with parsimony. At 400 pages, it will appear that parsimony was not her vice, while care has ever been a virtue.
When you kissed me it was as if some one had just stepped lightly out of the room.
I have stolen the heart out of your chest. It beat on my bed for days, where I let it run itself out. It wasnt red, but brown, turning deeper so as it lay and rot.
Shoving my shoulder against a door that says PULL; on my way out Ill remember to try pulling.
Truth was borne, in chaos agonized. Its cries assaulted the unsupervised.