It's Fun To Tease People About Where

Hunger Makes You Restless. You Dream About Food - Not Just Any Food, But Perfect Food, The Best Food, Magical Meals, Famous And Awe-inspiring, The One Piece Of Meat, The Exact Taste Of Buttery Corn, Tomatoes So Ripe They Split And Sweeten The Air, Beans So Crisp They Snap Between The Teeth, Gravy Like Mother's Milk Singing To Your Bloodstream.

I Put On The Page A Third Look At What I've Seen In Life - The Reinvented Experience Of A Cross-eyed Working-class Lesbian, Addicted To Violence, Language And Hope, Who Has Made The Decision To Live, Is Determined To Live, On The Page And On The Street, For Me And Mine.

Life Ain't The Movies.

And Of Course These Days I Feel Like There Is A Nation Of Us - Displaced Southerners And Children Of The Working Class. We Listen To Steve Earle, Mary J. Blige, And K.d. Lang. We Devour Paperback Novels And Tell Evil Mean Stories, Value Stubbornness Above Patience And A Sense Of Humor More Than A College Education. We Claim Our Heritage With A Full Appreciation Of How Often It Has Been Disdained. And Let Me Promise You, You Do Not Want To Make Us Angry.

I Did Not Begin With Craft, I Began With Strong Feelings And Worked Toward Craft.