#Americans
You are riding the bus again burrowing into the blackness of In… the sole passenger with an overhead light on. And I am with you.
The vast waters flow past its back… You can purchase a six-pack in bar… Tammy Wynette’s on the marquee a block down. It’s twenty-five yea… you went to death, I to life, and
Morning arrives unannounced by limousine: the tall emaciated chairman of sleeplessness in person
Some fish for words from shore while others, lacking in such contemplative tact, like to go wading in up to their chins through a torrent of bone-freezing diamond, knife raised, to free...
If I stare into it long enough, the point comes when I don’t know what it’s called, a condition in which lacerations are liable to occur, like a slip of the tongue; when a dropp of ...
Unless a grain of wheat goes into the ground and dies, it remains nothing but a grain of wheat. The ingredients gathered, a few small red tufts of the dream spoor per sheaf of Demete...
Is there a single thing in nature that can approach in mystery the absolute uniqueness of any hum… its transformation from childhood… We are surrounded at every instant
Pure gaze, you are lightning beyon… and you are the last trees’ past, branching green lightning of terminal brain branches
And not to feel bad about dying. Not to take it so personally’ it is only the force we exert all our lives to exclude death from our thoughts
Fifteen years later the old tollbooth keeper is still at his post but cannot break a twenty, regrettably, his brains blown out, or provide the forgotten directions. I did phone, what do...
You do look a little ill. But we can do something about that… Can’t we. The fact is you’re a shocking wrec… Do you hear me.
From the third floor window you watch the mailman’s slow pro… through the blowing snow. As he goes from door to door he might be searching
This was the first time I knelt and with my lips, frightened, kiss… the lit inwardly pink petaled lips… It was like touching a bird’s expo… with your tongue.
Incomprehensible fate that sentenced my father to my mother. I can’t blame him, I would have left the raving bitch myself, and would do so many many times in years to come. Then, of c...
From my cell I was staring at a cloud, a dog decaying in the woods, etc., as I took up the long-awaited sequel to my Confessions. By this time my hand was so far away that it looked lik...
