Lately I’ve been writing poems on panels and then collaging over them. It’s easier for me to send my poems out into the world this way. I”m sending my children out into cold storms of judgment with a heavy jackets on. I know these poems are warm and safe. No one will be able to read them, but they aren’t meant to be read. They’re merely pieces of myself dressed in found textures. Legibility is not important. The transference is the only importance. The solidification is important. They’re released from my dwelling and instead of dissipating in erosive fumes of misinterpretation, they’re locked between wood and paper.