Imagine an american hans christian andersen, conceive of the brothers grimm living in missouri, and you will approximate howard schwartz, a fable-maker and fable-gatherer seduced by the uncanny and the unearthly. In lilith's cave, he once again reaches into a magical cornucopia of folklore and fantasy and spreads before us, in enchanting language, the marvels and shocks of dybbuks, ghosts, demons, spirits, and wizards.
... Woman is frequently praised as the more "creative" sex. She does not need to make poems, it is argued; she has no drive to make poems, because she is privileged to make babies. A pregnancy is as fulfilling as, say, yeats' sailing to byzantium.... To call a child a poem may be a pretty metaphor, but it is a slur on the labor of art.