Quotes from Susan Rich

I think of your wind chime brain the low hanging indifferent sky a frame for loneliness just beginning— — Susan Rich, from "The Lost Thing," diode (vol. 13, no. 3, Fall 2020)

Newspapers appeared like oracles on your doorstep- gilded fragments of anonymous love.

I photograph you every morning In a cruel attempt to capture A formal souvenir of what I love

If I could unhinge myself from myself, attach to bookshelves, sever my tongue, I would watch as it grew back, rejuvenated and ready to speak