We Start Out As Little Bits Of

You Will Never Catch Up. Walk Around Feeling Like A Leaf Know You Could Tumble At Any Second. Then Decide What To Do With Your Time. --the Art Of Disappearing

Facts Interest Me Less Than The Trailing Smoke Of Stories.

Poetry [is] More Necessary Than Ever As A Fire To Light Our Tongues.

Anyone Who Says, “here’s My Address, Write Me A Poem,” Deserves Something In Reply. So I’ll Tell You A Secret Instead: Poems Hide. In The Bottoms Of Our Shoes, They Are Sleeping. They Are The Shadows Drifting Across Our Ceilings The Moment Before We Wake Up. What We Have To Do Is Live In A Way That Lets Us Find Them.

We Dropped Our Troubles Into The Lap Of The Storyteller, And They Turned Into Someone Else's.