Love says, mine. Love says, I could eat you up. Love says, stay as you are, be my own private thing, don't you dare have ideas I don't share. Love has just got to gobble the other, bones and all, crunch. I don't want to do that. I sure don't want it done to me!

A strong woman is a woman at work, cleaning out the cesspool of the ages, and while she shovels, she talks about how she doesn't mind crying, it opens the ducts of the eyes, and throwing up develops the stomach muscles, and she goes on shoveling with tears in her nose.

We seek not rest but transformation. We are dancing through each other as doorways.

Work is its own cure. You have to like it better than being loved.

Shared laughter is erotic too.

Where I came from, the nights I had wandered and survived scared them, and where I would go they never imagined.

Whatever is not an energy source, is an energy sink.