We share nothing but our humanity. And sometimes we share our lunch.

My implosion is my confession.

Sometimes the slow dance of poetry needs to pick up its tempo—or change tunes entirely.

Who says poetry is the best way to communicate? It is probably the worst way. Depending on how you define “poetry.” And “worst.” And “is.”

When we say, “There you have it,” we rarely know where “there” is or what “it” is.

I’m waiting for the day I fall on my face—then I’ll have an excuse for getting a nose job.

I’ve reached the existential moment where the question “How can I do the most good?” has been replaced by “How can I do the least harm?”

I looked at my poetry today and felt lonely, alone. Then I thought, “Yes, this is how it’s supposed to feel.”

If public libraries want to be relevant, they need to identify and address issues relevant to their communities, not hide from those issues.

I like books because they age with me.