And If The Professional Rapist Is To

I Am Not So Different In My History Of Abandonment From Anyone Else After All. We Have All Been Split Away From The Earth, Each Other, Ourselves.

But Still, The Other Voice, The Intuitive, Returns, Like Grass Forcing Its Way Through Concrete.

We Are Nature. We Are Nature Seeing Nature. We Are Nature With A Concept Of Nature. Nature Weeping. Nature Speaking Of Nature To Nature.

Each Life Reverberates In Every Other Life. Whether Or Not We Acknowledge It, We Are Connected, Woven Together In Our Needs And Desires, Rich And Poor, Men And Women Alike.

Poetry Is A Good Medium For Revolutionary Hope.