I'm in a hard place now. A very silent place. And I'm struggling to either accept this or drag myself out of it.

I was not popular enough - or at all - when Vanilla Ice was popular to remember who Vanilla Ice is without my husband reminding me. So I don't have a Vanilla Ice key chain.

My poetry definitely comes out of a female body.

Usually I avoid sugar, but sugar is like the most deeply satisfying addictive thing ever.

Halloween means that young girls dress up in highly sexualized outfits that would never be acceptable if it weren't Halloween.

I don't remember ever dressing up for Halloween but I must have. I do not like dressing up at all.

I do not like candy. I do not like knocking on strangers' doors. I do not like having to deal with the candy disaster that is Halloween. I resent it.

I HATE HALLOWEEN. This makes me VERY unpopular.

I like the way the prose and poetry interact.

I am only able to be honest. And sometimes my view of the world is pretty dark. But still funny.

I am interested in the movement of my own thoughts and in trying make the poems feel more accurate to experience, including the experience of thinking.

The kingdom of heaven is worth infinitely more than the cost of discipleship, and those who know where the treasure lies joyfully abandon everything else to secure it.

There was a time when I was in this private school and the kids were so conservative and close-minded that it was just appalling.

Under the current high energy / high entropy regime, sustainable development is a joke.

It is in man's heart that the life of nature's spectacle exists; to see it, one must feel it.

I hadn't realized until I covered the police beat just how seedy crime is.

Better to accept the wretched truth than struggle, twisting to make a wish a reality.

The underlying part of any comprehensive immigration bill is family unit.

You know, I didn't have enough money to quit my day job... the myth of the major label deal. Nowadays, you have a tour bus and a stylist and all this stuff. But back then, no way.

Things are always worse in the steady watches of the night.

Loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.