Do You Remember When They Taught Cursive

Prowling The Meanings Of A Word, Prowling The History Of A Person, No Use Expecting A Flood Of Light. Human Words Have No Main Switch. But All Those Little Kidnaps In The Dark. And Then The Luminous, Big, Shivering, Discandied, Unrepentant, Barking Web Of Them That Hangs In Your Mind When You Turn Back To The Page You Were Trying To Translate.

The Self Forms At The Edge Of Desire, And A Science Of Self Arises In The Effort To Leave That Self Behind.

I Never Really Got Over The Fun Of Making Letters.

I Am Kind Of A Curmudgeonly Person, So I Don't Gravitate To Groups Or Traditions, Which Is Probably Just Pretentious Of Me.

It Is When You Are Asking About Something That You Realize You Yourself Have Survived It, And So You Must Carry It, Or Fashion It Into A Thing That Carries Itself.