I guess what concerns me always is the need for a field, a rich compost, for any art to flourish. But however isolate or unheard you may feel, if you have the need to write poetry, are compelled to write it, you go on, whether there is resonance or not.

Love, our subject: we've trained it like ivy to our walls.

In America we have only the present tense. I am in danger. You are in danger.

Poetry can open locked chambers of possibiity, restore numbed zones to feeling, recharge desire.

In the middle-class United States, a veneer of "alternative lifestyles" disguises the reality that, here as everywhere, women's apparent "choices" whether or not to have children are still dependent on the far from neutral will of male legislators, jurists, a male medical and pharmaceutical profession, well-financed lobbies, including the prelates of the Catholic Church, and the political reality that women do not as yet have self-determination over our bodies and still live mostly in ignorance of our authentic physicality, our possible choices, our eroticism itself.

It will take all your heart, it will take all your breath It will be short, it will not be simple

I keep coming back to you in my head, but you couldn't know that, and I have no carbons.