I love being part of poetry conversations. I love talking about what I've read.

I think I love humor in poetry, but not that slapstick cheap easy humor, but that uncomfortable, "did she say that out loud?" kind of humor.

I've always been intrigued with the male characters in novels like 'Pride and Prejudice' such as Mr. Darcy, and this poem is part of a series of poems that explore desire and obsessions. The poems have been sitting in a drawer for a few years, so I decided to dust them off and work on them again since I have not written a new poem in more than three years. I'm not sure anything will become of the series, but at least it gives me something to work on in a period where I feel very uncreative.

There's an attraction to emotional clusters or hypocrisies or awkwardness. A desire to expose something or point at something that's already poking out.

I definitely have favorite books by favorite poets, but poets' books also vary. I could like some books, but not like another book.

There's so much stuff being written! Every year, how many books come out? I can't keep up, and I read a lot. It's amazing.

Having children can be such a gift, but it can be a crushing experience for a certain kind of mom. And I am that certain kind of mom.