I Am A Collection Of Dismantled Almosts.

Our Eyes Are Full Of Terrible Confessions.

Craft Is A Trick You Make Up To Let You Write The Poem.

If You Meet A Cross-eyed Person You Must Plunge Into The Grass, Alongside The Chilly Ants, Fish Through The Green Fingernails And Come Up With The Four-leaf Clover.

Women Are Born Twice.

I Did Not Know The Woman I Would Be Nor That Blood Would Bloom In Me Each Month Like An Exotic Flower, Nor That Children, Two Monuments, Would Break From Between My Legs.