The soul was not cured, it was as full as a clothes closet of dresses that did not fit.

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

Don't bite till you know if it's bread or stone.

A woman / who loves a woman / is forever young.

being sixteen in the pants I died full of questions

I lay there silently, hoarding my small dignity. I did not ask about the gate or the closet. I did not question the bedtime ritual where, on the cold bathroom tiles, I was spread out daily and examined for flaws. I did not know that my bones, those solids, those pieces of sculpture would not splinter.

The body is a damn hard thing to kill.