I interpret Wordsworth's "Composed Upon Westminster Bridge..."

For First Parish Church, Lexington

Click here (15 minutes, followed by Q&A).

The Crypt of the Capuchins

Image Journal, Issue 103 (includes audio)


Image Journal, Issue 103 (includes audio)

Exclusive in New York for Bergdorf Goodman

Nixes Mate Review, Issue 9

Two Poems

Compose Journal


"Birth of Pleasure, II"



Audio of Cammy Reading Robert Frost's "Design"


Home Or Harm You Can Only Make One


The Blues in My Heart, The Rhythm in My Soul

Missouri Review


Concord Academy reading


Poetry Society of America


Mass Poetry

November 1968

Indolent Books

Transition Poem # 59: Poems in the Aftermath

“All of Me” 
    --after a painting by Jaroslava O’Neil

By this time there are many of me—
there’s the me you usually see
in full color, and then other me’s
less visible.  My hair is like a flame,
like a flaming tree, and my torso
lifts up brave and undulant,
with rocket fuel pushing toward the sky.
I’m with another self who 
turns her back on fame.
And a paler thinner self who knows
what she knows, and hides her face.
I’m naked, multi-colored,
and I’ve got some extra flesh
here and there, like my ever upward
hair.  These breasts have fed a fair few
and still remain full, soft, aloft.
My curves remind me of my life,
strong striving, some forgiving, 
some swerving—my multitudes.  

I’m more than me--
I can feel there’s texture back
behind me, a palimpsest of what used
to be.  Once behind me was
another shape I’m told, 
thick ridges that still show 
through my shoulder, along my side, 
something past that clings,
makes me part of what I never knew,
that part of who I am I cannot see.
I hope my big hair pops 
beyond this frame and lives
forever, passing boldly from one eye
to another.  And wouldn’t you love
to kiss my bright red thigh?