Hey, Ocean Eyes,” My Father

The Relationship With The Words Someone Uses Is More Intimate And Integrated Than Just A Quick Read And A Blurb Can Ever Be. This Intimacy - The Words On The Page Being Sent Back And Forth From Engaged Editor To Open Author - Is Unique In My Experience.

I Like Gardening - It's A Place Where I Find Myself When I Need To Lose Myself.

You Could Not Be Filled With Hate And Be Beautiful. Like Any Other Girl, I Wanted To Be Beautiful. But I Was Filled With Hate.

Hold Still," My Father Would Say, While I Held The Ship In The Bottle And He Burned Away The Strings He'd Raised The Mast With And Set The Clipper Ship Free On Its Blue Putty Sea. And I Would Wait For Him, Recognizing The Tension Of That Moment When The World In The Bottle Depended, Solely, On Me.

These Things, She Felt, Were Not To Be Passed Around Like Disingenuous Party Favors. She Kept An Honor Code With Her Journals And Her Poems. 'inside, Inside,' She Would Whisper Quietly To Herself When She Felt The Urge To Tell.