UC Irvine

These poems are kidnapped scraps of conversation and memory, moments passed between women in bedrooms and kitchens and cemeteries, echoing up from pits of despair and the quietest corners of my life. Scraps that lodged themselves in my mind till I had nothing to do but soak them in beer and blood and honey, wring them out, and stretch them taut across a wooden frame so that I could tap them gently to hear any songs they cared to play.