I'm not the only person in the world who is suffering. I'm trying to talk to the world, responding to those voices.

That's how it is sometimes--God comes to your window, all bright light and black wings, and you're just too tired to open it.

W.S Merwin says "after three days of rain" and I write "After Twelve Days of Rain." I like his quietude. I admire his ability to be simple without being simplistic.

I feel deep gratitude for the life poetry has allowed me to live. I know the life I could have lived without it. Both on the physical plain, and the soul plain. Poetry helps us endure.

Moon In the Window I wish I could say I was the kind of child who watched the moon from her window, would turn toward it and wonder. I never wondered. I read. Dark signs that crawled toward the edge of the page. It took me years to grow a heart from paper and glue. All I had was a flashlight, bright as the moon, a white hole blazing beneath the sheets.

I'm not the only person in the world who is suffering. I'm trying to talk to the world, responding to those voices.

Every poem I write falls short in some important way. But I go on trying to write the one that won’t.