My Strength And My Weakness Are Twins

Connections Are Made Slowly, Sometimes They Grow Underground.

Nobody Hates Us As Ourselves. In Their Minds We're Not Human... They Don't Hate Us Because We Did Something Or Said Something. They Make Us Stand For An Evil They Invent And Then They Want To Kill It In Us.

Too Much Self-regard Has Never Struck Me As Dignified: Trying To Twist Over My Shoulder To View My Own Behind.

Writing Is A Futile Attempt To Preserve What Disappears Moment By Moment. All That Remains Of My Mother Is What I Remember And What I Have Written For And About Her. Eventually That Is All That Will Remain Of [my Husband] And Me. Writing Sometimes Feels Frivolous And Sometimes Sacred, But Memory Is One Of My Strongest Muses. I Serve Her With My Words. So Long As People Read, Those We Love Survive However Evanescently. As Do We Writers, Saying With Our Life's Work, Remember. Remember Us. Remember Me.

We Lie In Each Other's Arms Eyes Shut And Fingers Open And All The Colors Of The World Pass Through Our Bodies Like Strings Of Fire.