Every Time I Deny Myself

I Know I Am Made From This Earth, As My Mother's Hands Were Made From This Earth, As Her Dreams Came From This Earth And All That I Know, I Know In This Earth, The Body Of The Bird, This Pen, This Paper, These Hands, This Tongue Speaking, All That I Know Speaks To Me Through This Earth.

I Love That Moment In Writing When Language Falls Short. There Is Something More There. A Larger Body. Even By The Failure Of Words I Begin To Detect Its Dimensions. As I Work The Prose, Shift The Verbs, Look For New Adjectives, A Different Rhythm, Syntax, Something New Begins To Come To The Surface.

Self-reflection Is A Desire Felt By The Body, As Well As The Soul. As Dancers, Healers, And Saints All Know, When You Turn Your Attention Toward Even The Simplest Physical Process - Breath, The Small Movements Of The Eyes, The Turning Of A Foot In Midair - What Might Have Seemed Dull Matter Suddenly Awakens.

The Hard Surface Of The Stone Is Impervious To Nothing In The End. The Heat Of The Sun Leaves Evidence Of Daylight. Each Drop Of Rain Changes The Form; Even The Wind And The Air Itself, Invisible To Our Eyes, Etches Its Presence. … All History Is Taken In By Stones.

In The System Of Chivalry, Men Protect Women Against Men. This Is Not Unlike The Protection Relationship Which [organized Crime] Established With Small Businesses In The Early Part Of This Century. Indeed, Chivalry Is An Age-old Protection Racket Which Depends For Its Existence On Rape.