Eight Women Poets , ed.
Sounds attract feelings and aches, and vice versa.
Sounds and words attract each other, and ideas, and worries. And the thread of remembrance knitting the self over again, it's preposterous, it's hard to keep up with, do justice to, keep track of. The world is imbued with language and linguistic possibility, with bad and good expression, with hopefulness, with manipulation and trickery as well, with rationalizations and silence and gaps that alter, slowly, the structures of thought in the head. And poetry laughs at all of this at the same time as it confronts it, because poetry is entirely useless and owes no debts. It's a weightless possession, at the same time bearing the weight of responsibility and forgiveness.