When it's over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement. I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

I took one look and fell, hook and tumble.

Writing a poem ... is a kind of possible love affair between something like the heart (that courageous but also shy factory of emotion) and the learned skills of the conscious mind.

The face of the moose is as sad as the face of Jesus.

Along with the differences that abide in each of us, there is also in each of us a maverick, the darling stubborn one who won't listen, who insists, who chooses preference or the spirited guess over yardsticks or even history. I suspect this maverick is somewhat what the soul is, or at least that the soul lives close by and companionably with its agitating and inquiring force.

I want to be braver and more honest about my life. When you're sexually abused, there's a lot of damage.

Today again I am hardly myself. It happens over and over.