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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. 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. 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.
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Gold, Naomi Wolf
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- Année de publication
- 2022
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