The True Warrior Isn't Immune To Fear.

I Will Be Thin And Pure Like A Glass Cup. Empty. Pure As Light. Music. I Move My Hands Over My Body - My Shoulders, My Collarbone, My Rib Cage, My Hip Bones Like Part Of An Animal Skull, My Small Thighs. In The Mirror My Face Is Pale And My Eyes Look Bruised. My Hair Is Pale And Thin And The Light Comes Through. I Could Be A Lot Younger Than Seventeen. I Could Be A Child Still, Untouched.

When They First Kiss, There On The Beach, They Will Kneel At The Edge Of The Pacific And Say A Prayer Of Thanks, Sending All The Stories Of Love Inside Them Out In A Fleet Of Bottles All Across The Oceans Of The World.

Here You Go On This Long Long Dream. Don't Even Try To Wake Up. Just Let It Go On Until It Is Over. You Will Learn Many Things. Just Relax And Observe Because There Is Pain And That's It Mostly And You Aren't Going To Be Able To Escape No Matter What. Eventually It Will All Be Over Anyway. Good Luck.

I Think That Poetry Is Perfect For Women Raising Children, With Just Bits Of Time And Such Need To Connect To Other Women Out Of The Isolation Of Motherhood.

My Mother Said, "kiss Him, Darling, It's Easy So Natural" And I Thought To Myself, Not With Lips Of Stone, Dear Mother, Not With Lips Of Stone