Society, Like Nature, Is One

Ordinary Women Attempt To Change Our Bodies To Resemble A Pornographic Ideal. Ordinary Women Construct A False Self And Come To Hate This Self.

Every Time I Deny Myself I Commit A Kind Of Suicide.

What Is Buried In The Past Of One Generation Falls To The Next To Claim.

We Keep Secrets From Ourselves That All Along We Know.

I Love That Moment In Writing When Language Falls Short. There Is Something More There. A Larger Body. Even By The Failure Of Words I Begin To Detect Its Dimensions. As I Work The Prose, Shift The Verbs, Look For New Adjectives, A Different Rhythm, Syntax, Something New Begins To Come To The Surface.