“The visions are fragmented and a dark cloud spreads like spilt ink across the pages of possible futures.”

“The northern sky, dark over the sea, is mottled with green that spreads like spilt paint… The green and white reach towards each other and then lunge away like opposing magnets forced together. I tread water, and watch.”

“When a reader enters the pages of a book of poetry, he or she enters a world where dreams transform the past into knowledge made applicable to the present, and where visions shape the present into extraordinary possibilities for the future.”

“When Mary is confused or perplexed, she spurts anger the way an octopus spurts ink, and hides in the dark cloud of it.”

“Only the ship is made of books, its sails thousands of overlapping pages, and the sea it floats upon is dark black ink.”

“I scratch down happiness, Iwant my ink to do happy dances, to careen across the pages staggeringlike a drunken fellow, giddy on moonshine or sunset.”