Maybe if I could slip into Sylvia’s mind, sort out the spices in her rack, alphabetize them and dust them off. Maybe then I’d understand how it’s the little things that pull you under.

Know there’s beauty in the words you leave out.

If you think you are the mermaid, think again. You are the ocean holding the mermaid afloat,trying to change the world one dolphin at a time.

When someone says the world is mostly water, I say, And poets.

I can’t relate to your razzle-dazzle, your wish for voluptuous when my symphony is spanx.

Like the kite that caught up to the sky,painted with clouds, I lost track of it, but it was connected by string, something I was holding, something I could always bring back.

and everyone wants to read the poem we’re afraid to write.

We must lice with our hearts in our hands - like Mary.We must hold the blood-red heart and no be disappointedwhen others look away.

I don’t believe we should carry backupplans in life’s suitcase—they’re too easy to unpack like living a life in yoga pants, so comfortable our hips spreadinto new timezones...

I wonder if I might be lonelierif I didn't have loneliness