When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.

Give me your skin as sheer as a cobweb, let me open it up and listen in and scoop out the dark.

The Witch's Life" When I was a child there was an old woman in our neighborhood whom we called The Witch. All day she peered from her second story window from behind the wrinkled curtains and sometimes she would open the window and yell: Get out of my life! She had hair like kelp and a voice like a boulder. I think of her sometimes now and wonder if I am becoming her.

Suicide is, after all, the opposite of the poem.

Even without wars, life is dangerous.

And the aura of you remains, remains, remains...

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