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There is the falsely mystical view of art that assumes a kind of supernatural inspiration, a possession by universal forces unrelated to questions of power and privilege or the artist’s relation to bread and blood. In this view.

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

he ocean on whose surface vessels (personified as female) can ride but in whose depth sailors meet their death and monsters conceal themselves.
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Death Depth Female Menses Monster Moon Ocean Ride Sailor Themselves Tide
In this disintegrative, technologically-manic time, when public language is so debased, poetry continues to matter because it’s the art that reintegrates words, speech, voice, breath, music, bodily tempo, and the powers of the imagination.
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The more I live, the more I think, two people together is a miracle.
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Writers matter in a society to the extent that we can help that society hear its unvoiced longing, encounter its erased and disregarded selves, break with complacency, numbness, despair.
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This is one of the ways in which women’s work and thinking has been made to seem sporadic, errant, orphaned of any tradition of its own.
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Errant One Orphaned Own Seem Sporadic Thinking Tradition Way Women Work
The necessity of poetry has to be stated over and over, but only to those who have reason to fear its power.
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Believe Fear Necessity Poetry Power Reason Trying
The words are purposes./The words are maps./I came to see the damage that was done/and the treasures that prevail.
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We lose touch with parts of ourselves defined as unacceptable by that consciousness; with the vital toughness and visionary strength of the angry grandmothers, the fierce market women of the Ibo’s Women’s War.
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There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep, and still be counted as warriors. (I make up this strange, angry packet for you, threaded with love.) I think you thought there was no such place for you, and perhaps there was none then.
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Among Counted Down Must None Perhaps Sit Weep
Despair, when not the response to absolute physical and moral defeat is, like war, the failure of imagination.
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Absolute Confusion Defeat Despair Failure Imagination Physical Response War
The longer I live the more I mistrust theatricality, the false glamour cast by performance, the more I know its poverty beside the truths we are salvaging from the splitting-open of our lives. -from “Transcendental Etude
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Our thinking and feeling are still running in the old cycles, our process may be ‘revolutionary’ but not transformative.
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Cycle Feeling Process Revolutionary Running Still Thinking Transformative
I do not think [poetry] is more, or less, necessary than food, shelter, health, education, decent working conditions. It is as necessary.
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Condition Education Health Less More Poetry Shelter Thinking Working
Our personalities seem dangerously to blur and overlap with our mother’s; and, in a desperate attempt to know where mother ends and daughter begins, we perform radical surgery.
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Even where love has run thin the child’s soul musters strength… the rush of purpose to make a life worth living past abandonment building the layers up again over the torn hole.
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We who were loved will never unlive that crippling fever.
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