I can't stop looking 
at the words on the paper.
They're so beautiful.

I'm infected with
love. I'm infectious near you.
I want you to grow.

It's when we are full
of doubt that we must open
our hearts and just love.

Some days the hill is 
just too steep to climb, so I 
sit and rest awhile.

It's so nice to look
at your face. Your eyes, your lips
beg for some kisses.

The depths of the 
sea, the infiniteness of the 
sky, it's all so grand.

Love for yourself makes
you bearable. Love for others
makes life bearable.

Pop said once, "Reality 
is only half of life
therefore we dream."

On one side the clouds
were white, the other black and 
between they were grey.

Sometimes the squeaky
wheel doesn't need grease. You might
just need a new wheel.

Some days my feet feel
like roots in the ground. Others
they feel light as clouds.

He waited for her 
to walk away and then he yelled,
"I love you, beautiful!".

She was afraid of
what she saw in the box. Scared
she'd see her future.

Yes, Michelle shocked, but
Michelle sad, lonely and 
kinda confused, too.

You won't know where she's
going or been. Her whole life 
she's ridden the wind.

It's when I think
nothing else better could happen 
that that's when it does.

We're all just 
characters in a never-ending
play about ourselves. 

"Recollecting what
he did not want to remember,
he frowned again."
                   -Leo Tolstoy, Anna  Karenina

I read a letter
from a friend that made me 
nostalgic for letters.

It is said that a 
good friend is hard to find and
that saying is true.

There the sun sets so
quickly and here it sets so
very, very slow.

That age old soul 
searching drama of the robot who 
longed to be human.

Sometimes the truth
doesn't hurt. Sometimes it's just
really, really funny.

There's this way he holds
his arms when he smooths the back 
of his hair. Smokin'.

While I've no hope for
society I have the
highest hopes for you.

I read that Frank Lloyd Wright
said, "Space is the breath of art." 
and then I cried.

I'm 33. It's 
2013. I'm not old.
I'm brand spankin' new.

Today's a perfect 
day. I think the gods are 
thanking me for being.

I think that I've met
every feeling and then I 
meet a couple more.

The clouds in the sky
are like poetry. Poems
written just for me.

I don't know if you
know this, but the stars are big
and bright in Texas.

His words swimming in
my head, so powerful, I
couldn't sleep a wink.

The sun shining is 
so bright our shadows look like 
the blackest, dark night.

The sun behind the 
clouds at day looked like the moon
behind clouds at night.

Moved so by his 
graceful stride she hardly noticed 
the rest of the world.

The climb to the top
is long and hard, but, once there,
the view is gorgeous.

Too much social media
make my brain all melty,
me anti-social.

A bottle just dropped
and shattered, but I still heard
it over this crowd.

I feel Rapunzel's
pain. The weight of that hair like 
the weight of the world.

I keep listening,
because he makes the small things
sound so elegant.

Sometimes I feel like
everyone I know I don't
really even know.

Sweet memories in 
my mind of time not captured on 
Instagram or Vine.

Life is a series
of "oops"es and "yaaaay"s just one 
after another.

I put that corn out
for that dern crow and he 
didn't even eat it!

I fancy myself
royalty, but I'm really
just a peasant girl.

He told her, "The way 
you do something is the way 
you do anything."

Today I just want 
to drink hot toddies and 
giggle at my husband.

And Jesus came to 
the people and said, "Use 
this Vine app. It rules."

When I finally 
surrendered my will to the world 
I felt much better.

The way he speaks of
meadows I want to wade through 
them, float on the leaves.

Baby plays and
pulls at sister's hair like sister
plays and pull at mom's.

I always let him
do the pegging in cribbage.
I love him that much.

Each time I woke the 
night sky turned more and more orange 
before turning blue.

That picture of you,
that thing you said tells me so
much of who you are.

My dad had said once,
"Reading O'Connor is like 
being in prison."

I want your hands on
my hips and I want my fingers 
running through your hair.

That day when he'd cut 
down all the vines, it's like he'd 
cut off all my arms.

The best thing we can 
teach our children is every 
person's valuable.

The show's always 
about to begin, half-way 
through and almost over.

Damn, Day, you're all like
sunny, warm and the crows are
singin' and shit's sweeeeet.

I could hear wind chimes
outside the window. They sounded
like they were cold.

The river she's hard
and soft, beautiful and not,
everything to me.

Birds, roses, misty and 
cool. Grey, dogs, lovers holding 
hands while they walk home.

I look into the
future with my man and then 
look to see his smile.

As Winter slips 
away Spring's arms are open and 
slowly take me in.

I'm writing a 
super scary poem, 'cause my 
daughter thought I should.

My baby smells of
warm, plump, pink skin, momma's milk
and fresh ground coffee.

Your heart may be black 
or sparkly pink, but, damnit, 
least you still have one!

Spring is brilliant, but
the way he tells of it Heaven
couldn't compare.

For centuries this
green has been growing here and 
feeding the people.

There's always a right
time and a wrong time and right
now is the right time.

The longing inside
my heart it comes and goes, comes and 
goes. Ebbs and flows.

My baby the rider
and I the horse. We roam 
this land together.

He's such a way
explaining every detail I'm
wrapped up, swept away.

I love the story
of the siren and the sailor.
Their sad, sad beauty.

The sky is so big.
I feel so small under it.
It makes me feel good.

I like seeing porch
swings and yard chairs on porches 
with people in them.

I feel it so strongly
in my bones, in my blood.
It takes me over.

The air smells like smoke,
like something warm is being 
drunk. It's foggy out.

I don't want to read
the book too quickly, you know,
blow my wad too soon.

She tried not to show
signs of delight, but still they
came uninvited.

Tell your daughter your
story and she'll tell her
daughter her story, too.

I don't want to 
forget those parts of you that I
love to touch so much.

From afar the train
sounds lonely. Up close it
sounds mean and scary.

The boy next door walked
his girlfriend to the bus stop.
Cutest thing ever. 

Words were invented
just to describe someone as 
affecting as you.

Ooooh, I'm gonna get
you demon. If not this life
then another one!!!

I know it's an
impossible dream, but I must
dream it nonetheless.

The boy next door raps 
with his friends. He's not good, but 
I really love it.

The sun was shining
and then the rains came and then 
the sun shined again.

It's that soft light blonde
colored peach fuzz on the back 
of my daughter's neck.

Bewitch: affect by
witchcraft or magic; to enchant,
charm, fascinate.

Sometimes it scares us
when we don't understand, so I 
try to understand.

It was a warm and 
sunny winter's day. The kind
you mistake for spring.

I saw a couple
walking, talking, smiling. It 
made my heart feel light.

When I get so close
I've almost finished a book
I get butterflies.

I can be shy, but
not so shy as to touch your
hand before I go.

Forgive me for 
lingering there, but I just didn't 
want to leave you.

Hush, little baby,
don't say a word. Mama's tryin'
to watch her soap.

The sunset was all 
pinks and blues this evening.
I was glad I saw it.