It Is A Grief Over The Fate

Yes We Are Devilish; That Is True We Cackle. Yes We Are Dark Like The Soil And Wild Like The Animals. And We Turn To Each Other And Stare Into This Darkness. We Find It Beautiful. We Find This Darkness Irresistible. We Cease All Hiding.

War Starts In The Mind, Not In The Body.

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.

Each Time I Write, Each Time The Authentic Words Break Through, I Am Changed. The Older Order That I Was Collapses And Dies. I Lose Control. I Do Not Know Exactly What Words Will Appear On The Page. I Follow Language. I Follow The Sound Of The Words, And I Am Surprised And Transformed By What I Record.

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