Friday, April 22, 1994

Shaken, stirred

Our passion and kisses were stumbling, but stumbling in sync.

—Terri Guillemets

Thursday, April 21, 1994

Reading poetry

Poetry dyes your soul with a melody half yours and half the poet's.

—Terri Guillemets

Wednesday, March 9, 1994

Java next door

I could smell myself awake with that coffee.

—Terri Guillemets

Saturday, February 26, 1994

Phantom kisses

Oh, God. Heaven wasn't supposed to come this early. I was still among the living, and now more alive than ever.

—Terri Guillemets

Saturday, January 22, 1994


The smell of ink is intoxicating to me — others may have wine, but I have poetry.

—Terri Guillemets

Saturday, January 15, 1994


She kissed me, and my mouth wrote a poem of welcome to her lips.

—Terri Guillemets