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I have a lot of stolen goods in the poems. So much has been stolen—women’s sexuality, our power in birthing, reverence for the earth, etc.
I am trying to steal it back.
From this amazing interview with my teacher Hoa Nguyen on Evening Will Come, a beautiful online publication I think I have raved about before…. -
I know the adjective can be a nuisance, and the adverb clumsy. I’m a touch sick of the poetic inflation around prepositions. I would prefer that conjunctions were less visibly functional. Articles can clutter. The verb works the hardest. It should be the best paid. And I know the fifteenth letter O is the best word of all: O my black frying pan. O my fallen arches. O my degenerating fibroids. O what’s the point. O little man at the foot of my bed, please don’t steal my pillow.
O go read this essay by C. D. Wright. It’s just been posted on the gorgeous new website Evening Will Come, which features a new essay each month in a lovely, storybook format.
(a commonplace)
