A woman / who loves a woman / is forever young.
Being kissed on the back of the knee is a moth at the windowscreen.
Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in that narrow diary of my mind
When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.
Poetry is my life, my postmark, my hands, my kitchen, my face.
Death, I need my little addiction to you. I need that tiny voice who, even as I rise from the sea, all woman, all there, says kill me, kill me.