Whatever can happen to anyone can happen to me.

The process of writing a poem represents work done on the self of the poet, in order to make form.

I hear the singing of the lives of women. They clear mystery, the offering, and pride.

Nourish beginnings, let us nourish beginnings. Not all things are blest, but the seeds of all things are blest. The blessing is in the seed.

There is also, in any history, the buried, the wasted, and the lost.

The world is not made of molecules, the world is made of stories.

What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open.