I want to gesture toward a poetry of ourselves and others under the conditions of twenty-first-century absolutism, making us dimensional in a time when the human concrete is continually erased by state and religious violence and by disingenuous jargon serving state power.
Art, whose honesty must work through artifice, cannot avoid cheating truth.
The mother's battle for her child with sickness, with poverty, with war, with all the forces of exploitation and callousness that cheapen human life needs to become a common human battle, waged in love and in the passion for survival.
Lesbian existence comprises both the breaking of a taboo and the rejection of a compulsory way of life. It is also a direct or indirect attack on the male right of access to women.
Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, false namings of real events.
Pride is a tricky, glorious, double-edged feeling.
They can rule the world while they can persuade us our pain belongs in some order is death by famine worse than death by suicide, than a life of famine and suicide?
'Storm Warnings' is a poem about powerlessness - about a force so much greater than our human powers that while it can be measured and even predicted, it is beyond human control. All 'we' can do is create an interior space against the storm, an enclave of self-protection, though the winds of change till penetrate keyholes and 'unsealed apertures.'
The repossession by women of our bodies will bring far more essential change to human society than the seizing of the means of production by workers.
At twenty, I implicitly dissociated poetry from politics.
The connections between and among women are the most feared, the most problematic, and the most potentially transforming force on the planet.
The mind's passion is all for singling out. Obscurity has another tale to tell.
A thinking woman sleeps with monsters.