Strangers are an endangered species.

When someone with the authority of a teacher describes the world and you’re not in it, there’s a moment of psychic disequilibrium, as if you looked into a mirror and saw nothing.

Every poem breaks a silence that had to be overcome.

The will to change begins in the body, not in the mind.

Increasingly I think of poetry as a theatre of voices, not as coming from a single "I" or from any one position. I want to imagine voices different from my own.

It is the lesbian in us who is creative, for the dutiful daughter of the fathers in us is only a hack.

The worker can unionize, go out on strike; mothers are divided from each other in homes, tied to their children by compassionate bonds; our wildcat strikes have most often taken the form of physical or mental breakdown.