Poems aren't postcards to send home.

I am alone here in my own mind. There is no map and there is no road. It is one of a kind just as yours is.

Let God be some tribal female who is known but forbidden.

Well, one gets out of bed and the planets don't always hiss or muck up the day, each day.

It is June. I am tired of being brave.

Some women marry houses. It's another kind of skin; it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.

The beautiful feeling after writing a poem is on the whole better even than after sex, and that's saying a lot.