From Bitter Searching Of The Heart, Quickened

The Older I Get, The Surer I Am That I'm Not Running The Show.

You Have To Keep Cracking Yourself Open Or You Become A Parody Of Yourself.

The Troubles Came And I Saved What I Could Save. A Thread Of Light, A Particle, A Wave.

When You Call Me Close To Tell Me Your Body Is Not Beautiful I Want To Summon The Eyes And Hidden Mouths Of Stone And Light And Water To Testify Against You.

I Don't Consider Myself A Pessimist. I Think Of A Pessimist As Someone Who Is Waiting For It To Rain. And I Feel Soaked To The Skin.