We no longer believe in fairy tales. But we will learn to believe in monsters

Maybe her own tears were the poison that made her grow.

L.A. kills people.' Jacaranda said. 'You're lucky you're leaving. You'll be able to write.' She looked paler, going through another depression, smoking in bed in her lilac room. The walls were the color of her veins. She was getting too thin, even for the modeling. . .Jacaranda died last winter when the flowering trees were bare. You couldn't even tell which ones once cried the purple blossoms she named herself after.

You are my Marilyn. You are my lake full of fishes. You are my sky set, my 'Hollywood in Miniature,' my pink Cadillac, my highway, my martini, the stage for my heart to rock and roll on, the screen where my movies light up.

Tinys do not deserve safety. If they are to prove themselves, they must suffer and die or suffer and survive.

love is the only thing we have to save us

I think that poetry is perfect for women raising children, with just bits of time and such need to connect to other women out of the isolation of motherhood.