there is so much to hate in this world. so much to mourn. it is a miracle that my heart still has the capacity to love; you will not strip me of what little joy i have sequestered for myself for the sake of my sanity. you cannot have our art.

pick up a book. it just might free you from all that misery you feel.

Poetry fearlessly enters the horizon of the unknowable, the fuzzy. It lives there. That is why it is so significant in an uncertain, threatened time like ours.