“I’ve written this poem before but always through a window, never through an open door.”

“You can stand on the cliff of my heart and shout nothing but ‘ugly’ through me. I promise all I will echo back is ‘Beauty, beauty, you have always been beauty”

“Rocking ChairSad is. Scared is. That is all. The rocking chair I live in rocks like a paper boat. Sometimes I am all words, and no boot. No muster. No yes. All lag and tired pray, all miss my hometown. Miss the woods and the quiet porch and the talking slow. I caught the snow on my tongue. Snow angel, I. My heart a blue lamp. My mother calling me home. We cannot be called home enough times in our lives. Dear lonely, what is your name? I will open my front door and ring it through the streets.”

“That night when you kissed me, I left a poem in your mouth, and you can hear some of the lines every time you breathe out.”

“I know this world is far from perfect.I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon.I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic.But every ocean has a shorelineand every shoreline has a tidethat is constantly returningto wake the songbirds in our hands,to wake the music in our bones,to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that new born riverthat has to run through the center of our heartsto find its way home.”

“Cause I don't wanna be a witness to this life,I want to be charged and convicted,ear lifted to her song like a bouquet of yesbecause my heart is a parachute that has never opened in timeand I wanna fuck up that pattern,leave a hole where the cold comes in and fill it every day with her sun,'cause anyone who has ever sat in lotus for more than a few secondsknows it takes a hell of a lot more muscle to stay than to go”

“I know you think this world is too dark to even dream in color,but I’ve seen flowers bloom at midnight.I’ve seen kites fly in gray skiesand they were real close to looking like the sunrise,and sometime it takes the most wounded wingsthe most broken thingsto notice how strong the breeze is,how precious the flight.”