I feel truth, beauty, love, grief, anger, intimacy & alive in my body… Women in the global south live in their bodies much more than we in the global north. Not as distracted by patriarchy’s controlling images – They know power is in their bodies. I am deeply grateful for the women who showed me the way home.
I feel like I am in the service of the poem. The poem isn’t something I make. The poem is something I serve.
I feel as if I have been blessed to undergo a transformation from ‘gangster’ to ‘redeemed sinner with gangster proclivities.’
The longer I live, the more I feel that true repose consists in ‘renouncing’ one’s own self, by which I mean making up one’s mind to admit that there is no importance whatever in being ‘happy’ or ‘unhappy’ in the usual meaning of the words.
I feel much freer now that I am certain the pope is the Antichrist.
I feel myself part of something. Not only being part of a community but part of an actual moment and a movement of Irish writing and art. That sense of being part of the whole thing is the deepest joy.
Confession of errors is like a broom which sweeps away the dirt and leaves the surface brighter and clearer. I feel stronger for confession.
I have to do draft after draft… It takes me a long time, but I love doing it, and I have to do it every day, or I feel slack.
After so many years, I feel more American than anything else, but I’m also Romanian and whatever other oddities of temperament I picked up elsewhere, in Transylvania or France, for instance. These days, everybody is both an exile and a resident – they don’t call it the global village for nothing.
Breathing in, I am aware of my heart. Breathing out, I smile to my heart and know that my heart still functions normally. I feel grateful for my heart.