Auuugghhh!!!! I LOVE THIS!!!
And for That Writer Fellow, I give you a portion of a poem from the upcoming book:
Postcards from the Amazon
a celebrity correspondence
I.
My exercise routine?
I practice on
the parallel bars of I am
woman and hear
my golden lasso roar.
I beat Superman
at arm-wrestling, every time.
II.
And oh, the boys,
my colleagues: tights
bulging, faces half-hidden,
capes cracking in the breeze.
Their voices deep as a well.
Their jaws so straight and sharp
you could shave with them.
…
VI.
All women are gymnasts,
swinging
themselves from one necessity
to the next,
swinging, like Jane, from vines,
like me
from golden lassoes. Women hurtle
themselves
over every obstacle made by nature
or man,
break free from steel-forged chains
or do not.
This last is why women have
sisters.
…
Charissa's Grace Notes 
Really speaks to me. It is probably some horrible reversed sexism on my part, but women (in general, and especially as a group) seem to have a more civilised, co-operative, and flexible approach to life’s problems than men (especially as a group). On that point, I daresay at least the Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminists and I would agree (if on very few others): had history been enacted by more women and fewer men, I cannot help but feel it would have been less a litany of strife.
Elli…I really love the poetry (and the prose too) of the author of this poem. She takes poetry seriously as Poetry and refrains from the masquerade that so many today engage in, that jotting of thoughts in ragged semi-sentences that is then given the moniker poem…grrrr…I do get a lil restive with that charade.
My poetry is rarely transcendent above doggerel, but at least I am aiming high, and I think I manage to root each poem in Poetry’s garden!
Well, Susan Spilecki really gets down to it, IMO. She is thoughtful, her thoughts are long and deep thoughts, and yet she thoroughly gets the importance of those lil grace notes of whimsy, humor and even absurdity.
A poetess who does not get all ponderous and thus does not haffa be the brooding “mad poet” or the weeping “mourning poet”…
She just a good old WILD WOMAN!
My sister idolized her.