I remember writing poetry, sometimes feverishly, through 1995 and up to about 2001. I remember having a stack of printed paper, with drafts of poetry, one about an old lady who fell and crashed and became a thousand angry flies. They swarmed people to death.

Geez, I wonder if that was the lady (see below).

(And, I wish I could find my stuff. They would probably sicken me now, but it would be really fun just to read them. Maybe, not.)