A boy told me if he roller-skated fast enough his loneliness couldn't catch up to him, the best reason I ever heard for trying to be a champion. What I wonder tonight pedaling hard down King William Street is if it translates to bicycles. A victory! To leave your loneliness panting behind you on some street corner while you float free into a cloud of sudden azaleas, pink petals that have never felt loneliness, no matter how slowly they fell.

I have always loved the gaps, the spaces between things, as much as the things. I love staring, pondering, mulling, puttering. I love the times when someone or something is late-there's that rich possibility of noticing more, in the meantimePoetry calls us to pause. There is so much we overlook, while the abundance around us continues to shimmer, on its own.

Because sometimes I live in a hurricane of words and not one of them can save me.

The writing of Kathleen McGookey shines more brightly than most fine things we feel pleasure to read. Celebrate it!

I want to be someone making music/with my coming.

The hands are churches that worship the world.

Poetry calls us to pause. There is so much we overlook, while the abundance around us continues to shimmer, on its own.