Wow. This is the kind of poetry that takes you on a ride, a river ride of emotions, twisting and turning and seemingly going in circles and going nowhere and going on a white-water-rapids of shock and amazement. The words fall by you raindrops, like tiny liquid balls of chaos splashing against you and around you, crashing around you, and seemingly making no sense, but then you catch a glimpse of yourself caught in a shower of poetry and emotions and words, a glimpse of yourself experiencing words that individually have the short-lived life of a raindrop, but together form a quenching rain that nurishes you, carries you, and splatters you in the face. Splatters may startle you, rain may shock you, but by the time the clouds lift and the rain stops your thirst will be quenched, the trees will look a little more alive, and the grass will look a little greener, and you will know you have received a gift.

Azaria's way with words are amazing, raw emotions in liquid form, sometimes smooth as silk, occaisionally rough around the edges, but all good and for a purpose. By the end, the knot in my throat, the tears forming in my eyes, and smile on my face were real, and that's pure poetry.