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To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power. Or the climbing, falling colors of a rainbow.

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The sadness of the women's movement is that they don't allow the necessity of love. See, I don't personally trust any revolution where love is not all...more

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The poetry you read has been written for you, each of you - black, white, Hispanic, man, woman, gay, straight.

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Each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it possibly, without claiming it, she stands up for all women.

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All my ways of being are musical and mysterious.Yet I embrace you openly.Ripe with expectancy.

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Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's sizeBut when I start to tell them,They think I'm telling lies...more