Piece By Piece, My Mother Is Being

The Horror Of Class Stratification, Racism, And Prejudice Is That Some People Begin To Believe That The Security Of Their Families And Communities Depends On The Oppression Of Others, That For Some To Have Good Lives There Must Be Others Whose Lives Are Truncated And Brutal.

I Put On The Page A Third Look At What I've Seen In Life - The Reinvented Experience Of A Cross-eyed Working-class Lesbian, Addicted To Violence, Language And Hope, Who Has Made The Decision To Live, Is Determined To Live, On The Page And On The Street, For Me And Mine.

People Begin To Write In Order To Create What They Have Not Found And, A Little Bit, To Give Something Back.

The Only Magic We Have Is What We Make In Ourselves, The Muscles We Build Up On The Inside, The Sense Of Belief We Create From Nothing.

Behind My Carefully Buttoned Collar Is My Nakedness, The Struggle To Find Clean Clothes, Food, Meaning, And Money. Behind Sex Is Rage, Behind Anger Is Love, Behind This Moment Is Silence, Years Of Silence.