Pretty Girls, Phallic Symbols and the Mysterious Human Brain

I don’t know why, but I wrote my first poem when I was six.  It was an ode to female beauty that started, “Her face was the color of peaches and cream, with strawberry juice in between.”  Not exactly subtle, huh.  Born already of stories about blushing princesses and sleeping beauties that so shape the young lives of women.  I say women and not girls because I think that the images and parables of such stories, though created in youth, last for a lifetime – even when we decide that we don’t want them to…

Continue reading

Advertisements