I Am Influenced By Words And The

For If Jack Buggit Could Escape From The Pickle Jar, If A Bird With A Broken Neck Could Fly Away, What Else Might Be Possible? Water May Be Older Than Light, Diamonds Crack In Hot Goat's Blood, Mountaintops Give Off Cold Fire, Forests Appear In Mid-ocean, It May Happen That A Crab Is Caught With The Shadow Of A Hand On Its Back, And That The Wind Be Imprisoned In A Bit Of Knotted String. And It May Be That Love Sometimes Occurs Without Pain Or Misery.

If Life Was An Arc Of Light That Began In Darkness, Ended In Darkness, The First Part Of His Life Had Happened In Ordinary Glare. Here It Was As Though He Had Found A Polarized Lens That Deepened And Intensified All Seen Through It.

And It May Be That Love Sometimes Occurs Without Pain Or Misery.

And They Shook Hands, Hit Each Other On The Shoulder, Then There Was Forty Feet Of Distance Between Them And Nothing To Do But Drive Away In Opposite Directions. Within A Mile Ennis Felt Like Someone Was Pulling His Guts Out Hand Over Hand A Yard At A Time. He Stopped At The Side Of The Road And, In The Whirling New Snow, Tried To Puke But Nothing Came Up. He Felt About As Bad As He Ever Had And It Took A Long Time For The Feeling To Wear Off.

He Pressed His Face Into The Fabric And Breathed In Slowly Through His Mouth And Nose, Hoping For The Faintest Smoke And Mountain Sage And Salty Sweet Stink Of Jack But There Was No Real Scent, Only The Memory Of It, The Imagined Power Of Brokeback Mountain Of Which Nothing Was Left But What He Held In His Hands.