My responses tend to be glib, or poignant, or what the hell ever, but this story is such a vulnerable baring of a private and intimate… wound(?)… loss(?)… desire(?) I have no pithy response. Any response I might make is unnecessary and irrelevant. I have no words.

But I will say this — through your poetry, I have come to care for you, Anna Now.

There. That’s it. I care about you, and I am honored to know more about how you became the tender, honest, brazen, soulful poet that you are, and I am so sorry for the pain you suffered as you evolved. I wish we lived closer. I would drive over right now and hug you. You seem to be wrestling with some personal demons. Be strong, be well, take care of yourself.