Breath and brevity are sisters; the long-winded is an enemy who muffles your heartbeat.

Crows appear in many of my new unpublished poems. In these walks, they take on a symbolic life apart from their irritating, undeniable, interruptive presence. I figure them differently.

As I grew older - and even when I was younger - it had puzzled me why I continued and continue to be heterosexual.

"Time" does not mean "occasion."

Note, the reply will not be "I write," an act that I have, after all, been performing since I was nine.

At a certain point, the struggles with teaching and mothering and so on and so forth, those decline, those lessen.

Of course, among the confused motives that spurred me toward being a writer was also the desire to look, to be above the trees and rooftops, beyond the Malaysian horizon that circumscribed my life.