Everything I write, I read out loud. It has to sound a certain way. It has to look a certain way on the page.

Keep on doing what you're doing.

In all your getting, get understanding.

Time comes to us softly, slowly. It sits beside us for a while. Then, long before we are ready, it moves on.

I'm always wondering if he'll return. Sometimes I pray that he doesn't. And sometimes I hope he will. I wish on falling stars and eyelashes. Absence isn't solid the way death is. It's fluid, like language. And it hurts so much...so, so much.

Seems like every time life starts straightening itself out, something's gotta go and happen.

I think that happens for a lot of people, they have this idea that there's only one type of way to write poetry and that you have to have this information. You have to know about meter, you have to know about form, you have to know about iambic pentameter, and all of that.