Above All, We Ask The Poet To

Nothing Is More Memorable Than A Smell. One Scent Can Be Unexpected, Momentary And Fleeting, Yet Conjure Up A Childhood Summer Beside A Lake In The Mountains...

Hope And Uncertainty [are] The Twin Ingredients Necessary For Romance To Thrive. ... Nothing Begins With So Much Excitement And Hope, Or Fails As Often, As Love.

The Only And Absolute Perfect Union Of Two Is When A Baby Hangs Suspended In Its Mother's Womb, Like A Tiny Madman In A Padded Cell, Attached To Her, Feeling Her Blood And Hormones, And Moods Play Through Its Body, Feeling Her Feelings.

I Believe Consciousness Is Brazenly Physical, A Raucous Mirage The Brain Creates To Help Us Survive.

An Occasion, Catalyst, Or Tripwire?permits The Poet To Reach Into Herself And Haul Up Whatever Nugget Of The Human Condition Distracts Her At The Moment, Something That Can't Be Reached In Any Other Way.