Having my poems set to music by Eric Moe has completely knocked my socks off.

Not everyone is going to like every carnival ride.

I am pretty interested in hybrid forms. I love graphic novels and I think there should be more graphic poems in the world.

I'm pretty lenient with myself about time - if I feel like taking photographs of small things inside ice cubes or making animal collages, I just do it. When I want to write, I write. It's all part of the same thing for me.

We humans have an amazing way of making everything personal.

Erasures are interesting to me because they prove what particular sieves we all are.

S. E. Smith's I Live in a Hut has a deceptively simple title, considering that the brain in that hut contains galaxies-worth of invention: At night when your soldiers are praying ceaselessly for less rain and more underwear my soldiers make underwear out of rain. These poems seesaw between despair and delight but delight is winning the battle. Smith is a somersaulting tightrope walker of a poet and her poems will make you look at anything and everything with new eyes: For days I tried to rub the new freckle // off my hand until I realized what it was / and began to grant it its sovereignty.