Inspecting the Meaning of Expecting Being a mother is tired and re-worn as ancient jeans. Being a mother is completely unique. Brand new. I am doing the same things women who have given birth have always done. I’m so alone. Nobody has ever done this before. I have never felt this kind of love. I have never suffered like this. I do not care. This is monumentally important. So goes my mind. It’s a carousel ride, every day. And I wonder: Do other parents feel this way? When I wa

Necropolis I’ve been offering annotated versions of my chapbook Pink Plastic House on my website and Twitter for sometime now. The annotations give me a chance to feel like the teenage girl I perpetually am, to chatter diary style – to pass a note to my readers from a once professional schoolgirl about her poems, their influences and context. People have embraced these annotations, and I was honored when Tianna asked me to continue a bit of this new ritual of mine here. On