“Today is the first of August. It is hot, steamy and wet. It is raining. I am tempted to write a poem. But I remember what it said on one rejection slip: 'After a heavy rainfall, poems titled 'Rain' pour in from across the nation.”
“Sometimes,' she said, remembering that morning, 'I write poems that are taller than I am”
“...I am writing these poems from inside a lion...”
“The monsoon came, six monthsof infinite rain. The towns I once knewwere wiped clean,and everyone said it was Godrevising his poem.”
“Someday I would have lovers and write a poem after”
“I wish I had eyes that changed colors from blue to gray, and then after I cried, to all the colors of the rainbow, because then I’d just sit in front of the mirror writing poems that alternated between extremely sad poems, to poems about light refraction and blinking promises.”