At a certain point, the struggles with teaching and mothering and so on and so forth, those decline, those lessen.

In various memoir pieces, I have traced the trajectory of yearning through decisions made, good and bad, that had somehow kept the ambition on track.

In some ways it is absurd for me to assert, counter to evidence, that I have not been writing.

There are a couple of poems I've written with masculine muses, very often the muse to me is a female.

I don't know where to place my body. Everyone notices that about me. I'm very restless.

The Chinese traditionally have revered age and longevity - I have one and hope for the other! - so, in Taipei, a city-hub for global Chinese who dis-identify with the People's Republic of China's construction of a Communist nationalist Chineseness, I called on the Chinese muse of writing to witness my emergence out of the academic woods.

I don't really get into the power sufficiently, and that's also a problem for me.