Everyone Is So Different. I

The Older I Get, The More I Feel.

I Think This Is True For All Artists. My Senses Are Very Important To Me.

Once You Lose Someone It Is Never Exactly The Same Person Who Comes Back.

Poems Come From Ordinary Experiences And Objects, I Think. Out Of Memory - A Dress I Lent My Daughter On Her Way Back To College; A Newspaper Photograph Of War; A Breast Self-exam; The Tooth Fairy; Calvinist Parents Who Beat Up Their Children; A Gesture Of Love; Seeing Oneself Naked Over Age 50 In A Set Of Bright Hotel Bathroom Mirrors.

I Have Never Thought I Could Take It, Not Even For The Children. It Is All I Have Wanted To Do, To Stand Between Them And And Pain. But I Come From A Long Line Of Women Who Put Themselves First.