The Pitcher Cries For Water To Carry

Grandmother Hannah Comes To Me At Pesach And When I Am Lighting The Sabbath Candles. The Sweet Wine In The Cup Has Her Breath.... A Little Winter No Spring Can Melt.

I Mourn In Grey, Grey As The Sleeted Wind The Bled Shades Of Twilight, Gunmetal, Battleships, Industrial Paint.

A Strong Woman Is A Woman Determined To Do Something Others Are Determined Not Be Done.

You Are Built To Pull A Cart, To Lift A Heavy Load And Bear It, To Haul Up The Long Slope, And So Am I, Peasant Bodies, Earthy, Solid Shapely Dark Glazed Clay Pots That Can Stand On The Fire.

All Women Are Misfits. We Do Not Fit Into This World Without Amputations.