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The fear of
blindness is worse
Than the fact.
Rousseau ridicules us,
“Educate women and the more they
Resemble our sex, the less power will
They have over us.”
That is not what I seek, but power over ourselves!
We are like little cucumbers
Row upon row, gleaming,
Ready to be cut, sugared, or baked.
The moral life is to see
The harvest! The peeling,
Be the knife! The self as source.
London. With a job of my own
In a flat with old walls,
I get up earlier than most men.
I write. All day I write for other people.
I go to bed later than most men.
Do our dreams affect our days, or
Do our days affect our dreams…
I would like someone waiting for me.
I long for a cup of tea.
The light is on the wall.
It falls on my plain wooden bed,
The gray curtain.
Teach yourself how to think, Mary!
For no one else will do it for you.
Be the knife.
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