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I love the combination of smartness, pain, and what one might call conscious postmodern trashiness in this book: a version of the erotic full of nervous tension which animates the sensuality, and also Zimroth's feeling for words, compressed, ironic, withholding, but also 'asking for it . . . the siege, the thrill, the battle fatigue.' A profoundly urban book, of harsh memory and fantasy, set in harsher reality.
Alicia Ostriker -
The mind is a leaf pile where you can bury anything....
Alicia Ostriker
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Somewhere under the hurricane a sea turtle rows through silence.
Alicia Ostriker -
The appropriation of the creativity-procreativity metaphor by women is a conscious challenge to traditional poetics and beyond that to traditional metaphysics, for the gynocentric vision is not that Logos condescends to incarnate itself, but that Flesh becomes Word.
Alicia Ostriker -
With women poets we look at or into, but not up at, sacred things; we unlearn submission.
Alicia Ostriker -
The writer who is a mother should, I think, record everything she can: make notes, keep journals, take photographs, use a tape recorder, and remind herself that there is a subject so incalculably vast significance to humanity, about which virtually nothing is known because writers have not been mothers.
Alicia Ostriker -
Passing that fiery tree – if only she could; Be making love, Be making poetry, Be exploding, be speeding through the universe; Like a photon, like a shower; Of yellow blazes...
Alicia Ostriker -
Anyway, what is the soul but a dream of itself?
Alicia Ostriker