What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life?/ The world would split open. - Muriel Rukeyser

I speak, then, of a poetry which tends where form tends, where meanings tend. This will be a poetry which is concerned with the crises of our spirit, with the music and the images of these meanings. It will also be a poetry of meeting-places, where the false barriers go down. For they are false. (Chapter One, p 20)

What three things can never be done?
Forget. Keep silent. Stand alone.
The hill of glass, the fatal brilliant plain.

The days grow and the stars cross over
And my wild bed turns slowly among the stars.