Look to your heart that flutters in and out like a moth. God is not indifferent to your need. You have a thousand prayers but God has one.

Poems aren't postcards to send home.

We talked death with burned-up intensity, both of us drawn to it like moths to an electric light bulb. Sucking on it!

I tell you what you’ll never really know: all the medical hypothesis that explained my brain will never be as true as these struck leaves letting go.

It is June. I am tired of being brave.

Letters are false really - they are expressions of the way you wish you were instead of the way you are.

Craft is a trick you make up to let you write the poem.