History Works Itself Out In The Living.

Love. The Black Hook. The Spear Singing Through The Mind.

Women Don't Realize How Much Store Men Set On The Regularity Of Their Habits. We Absorb Their Comings And Goings Into Our Bodies, Their Rhythms Into Our Bones.

...grandpa's Mind Had Left Us, Gone Wild And Wary. When I Walked With Him I Could Feel How Strange It Was. His Thoughts Swam Between Us, Hidden Under Rocks, Disappearing In Weeds, And I Was Fishing For Them, Dangling My Own Words Like Baits And Lures.

Don't Read Anything Except What Destroys The Insulation Between Yourself And Your Experience.

We Have These Earthly Bodies. We Don't Know What They Want. Half The Time, We Pretend They Are Under Our Mental Thumb, But That Is The Illusion Of The Healthy And The Protected. Of Sedate Lovers. For The Body Has Emotions It Conceives And Carries Through Without Concern For Anyone Or Anything Else. Love Is One Of Those, I Guess. Going Back To Something Very Old Knit Into The Brain As We Were Growing. Hopeless. Scorching. Ordinary.