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Welcome to Difficult Degrees.  Here you will find my poetry, other confessional and survival poetry, many known poets, literature, books, my snippets of my memoir I’m working on–a memoir about the evolutions of degrees,how much I have and do change, everything a spin off from another.  I was sexually, physically and psychologically abused


since four or five years of age but there were times of no sexual abuse and times of absolute beauty with two people I often write about–Erica and Mike.  I also have complex trauma/Ptsd (a post-traumatic-stress disorder that I’ll have forever; chronic), I’m Bipolar, I have ADHD, dissociative disorder/amnesia, depersonalization/derealization.  It’s not as bad as it sounds some days. Yet every morning it’s a struggle: I find myself looking in the mirror, trying to decide if I’ve lost, or if I’ll keep my chin above the water another day.  I listen to a lot of music.  A LOT.  And I share it  here.  I love comments and commenting back and getting conversations and theories and shared lessons going.  I’ve met on here many, many dear people who seem to understand me more than the people in my life. I’ve always been a writer, and the  thing is I never know what the hell I’m feeling until I write it down.  And I write it because I need to know that I am real, that it all was real, and that I am of some kind of substance.


Here’s a favorite poem I’d like to share by Louise Gluck:


Are you healed or do you only think you’re healed?
I told myself
from nothing
nothing could be taken away.
But do you love anyone yet?
When I feel safe I can love.
But will you touch anyone?
I told myself
if I had nothing
the world couldn’t touch me.
In the bathtub, I examine my body.
We’re supposed to do that.

And your face too?
Your face in the mirror?

I was vigilant: when I touched myself
I didn’t feel anything.
Were you safe then?
I was never safe, even when I was most hidden.
Even then I was waiting.
So you couldn’t protect yourself?

The absolute
erodes; the boundary, the wall
around the self erodes.
If I was waiting I had been
invaded by time.

But do you think you’re free?

I think I recognize the patterns of my nature.

But do you think you’re free?

I had nothing
and I was still changed.
Like a costume, my numbness
was taken away. Then
hunger was added.

Beautiful, eh?  So come on in and let’s get into it.  Thanks for reading.  You can check out more at my ABOUT page, because I’m too lazy to blend the two together.


2 thoughts on “Welcome

  1. No name with your fine comments on Miller. For me, he had a lot of fun writing, a quality rarely seen in most books. My own essay on Miller can be found at “MBE text extract-scribd”. Thanks, Guillermo O’Joyce.



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