Society, Like Nature, Is One Body, Really.

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.

Borrow A Child And Get On Welfare. Borrow A Child And Stay In The House All Day With The Child, Or Go To The Public Park With The Child, And Take The Child To The Welfare Office And Cry And Say Your Man Left You And Be Humble And Wear Your Dress And Your Smile, And Don't Talk Back.

This Earth Is My Sister; I Love Her Daily Grace, Her Silent Daring, And How Loved I Am. How We Admire This Strength In Each Other, All That We Have Lost, All That We Have Suffered, All That We Know: We Are Stunned By This Beauty, And I Do Not Forget: What She Is To Me, What I Am To Her.

What Is Buried In The Past Of One Generation Falls To The Next To Claim.

We Keep Secrets From Ourselves That All Along We Know.