I deserve rest.

Hugs and kisses to the hundreds and hundreds of small literary journals that publish poetry

How a mystic who never left her cell helped me to leave mine.

How I will better handle my sure to come rejections in the coming year

Delighting in all the ways I avoid writing

A special poem for those who say they hate poetry

Maybe there’s a way to see every emotion (even the glad tidings ones) through from start to finish.

The book I wrote feels like she’s always been there and also like she’s entirely a new creation.

Poetry was becoming a way back to myself, and it was a joyful reunion.

In the past week, I have sat on my bed and watched paint on my bedroom wall dry.