Wherever The Bird With No Feet Flew,

It Is Not Our Differences That Divide Us. It Is Our Inability To Recognize, Accept, And Celebrate Those Differences.

The Quality Of Light By Which We Scrutinize Our Lives Has Direct Bearing Upon The Product Which We Live, And Upon The Changes Which We Hope To Bring About Through Those Lives. It Is Within This Light That We Form Those Ideas By Which We Pursue Our Magic And Make It Realized. This Is Poetry As Illumination, For It Is Through Poetry That We Give Name To Those Ideas Which Are, Until The Poem, Nameless And Formless-about To Be Birthed, But Already Felt.

The Erotic Is A Resource Within Each Of Us That Lies In A Deeply Female And Spiritual Plane, Firmly Rooted In The Power Of Our Unexpressed Or Unrecognized Feeling. . . .

And Where The Words Of Women Are Crying To Be Heard, We Must Each Of Us Recognize Our Responsibility To Seek Those Words Out, To Read Them And Share Them And Examine Them In Their Pertinence To Our Lives.

Well, I Do Not Want To Be Tolerated, Nor Misnamed. I Want To Be Recognized.