Like the kite that caught up to the sky,painted with clouds, I lost track of it, but it was connected by string, something I was holding, something I could always bring back.

For everyone who never smiled in school photos, for all who’ve wandered city streetsnot knowing the where they were or feeling alone, I’ve packed kindness.

Maybe if I could slip into Sylvia’s mind, sort out the spices in her rack, alphabetize them and dust them off. Maybe then I’d understand how it’s the little things that pull you under.

Maybe I’m still the mermaid. Maybe the ocean is your hand.

Yes, it hurts to fall— ache, tenderness—but each scar is a sign your system is working.

A crowd of drunken lovers. Newspaper hats, new couples falling from couches and love- seats—the pleasure remembered, never the regret.

and everyone wants to read the poem we’re afraid to write.

…look up and see the madnessorganized in the stars.

We must live with our hearts in our hands – like Mary.We must hold the blood-red heart and no be disappointedwhen others look away.

I escape disaster by writing a poem with a joke in it:The past, present, and future walk into a bar—it was tense.

in the corner of the painting of successthe signature is blurred

the moon is just another kind of clock

As I go under, I wonder if there’s a reason for art?

I place solitude in a frame on my desk and call it, the one I love.

She pours sugar on her life and drinks the artist’s marrow in the bone of her glass and she lives.

Understand, it’s never been easy to live, when we’re trying to escape ourselves.

I don’t believe we should carry backupplans in life’s suitcase—they’re too easy to unpack like living a life in yoga pants, so comfortable our hips spreadinto new timezones…

I can’t relate to your razzle-dazzle, your wish for voluptuous when my symphony is spanx.

To suffer together is to suffer with beauty,

A friend comes over with a Ouija board.It spells out: Bourbon. Where’s the band?Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.

Sometimes darknessis the beauty I am made of—