She is so naked and singular. She is the sum of yourself and your dream. Climb her like a monument, step after step. She is solid.

Rejoice with the day lily for it is born for a day to live by the mailbox and glorify the roadside

Give me your skin as sheer as a cobweb, let me open it up and listen in and scoop out the dark.

The man inside of woman ties a knot so that they will never again be separate.

Some women marry houses. It's another kind of skin; it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.

I find now, swallowing one teaspoon of pain, that it drops downward to the past where it mixes with last year’s cupful and downward into a decade’s quart and downward into a lifetime’s ocean. I alternate treading water and deadman’s float.

Talk to me about sadness. I talk about it too much in my own head but I never mind others talking about it either; I occasionally feel like I tremendously need others to talk about it as well.