Gold

<p>Poems are conceived the way we are. They grow out of wild emotions macerate for a while in their warm thick juice... until your body cannot bear it any longer and you must push them out into words.</p><p>I gave birth painfully first to still-born things. I gave birth to foetuses... Then one day I tripped fell and gave life to Tears Love Desire and Angry Poundings.</p><p>My poems tell the journey of a woman stumbling struggling to stand back up and find her voice but falling in love and hoping hoping with all her guts.</p>