No One Is Born Just Once. If

Long After You’ve Forgotten Someone’s Voice, You Can Still Remember The Sound Of Their Happiness Or Their Sadness. You Can Feel It In Your Body.

I Wanted A Line In A Poem To Be The Hollow Ney Of The Dervish Orchestra Whose Plaintive Wail Is A Call To God. But All I Achieved Was Awkward Shrieking. Not Even The Pure Shriek Of A Reed In The Rain.

History And Memory Share Events; That Is, They Share Time And Space. Every Moment Is Two Moments.

The Spirit In The Body Is Like Wine In A Glass; When It Spills, It Seeps Into Air And Earth And Light….it’s A Mistake To Think It’s The Small Things We Control And Not The Large, It’s The Other Way Around! We Can’t Stop The Small Accident, The Tiny Detail That Conspires Into Fate: The Extra Moment You Run Back For Something Forgotten, A Moment That Saves You From An Accident – Or Causes One. But We Can Assert The Largest Order, The Large Human Values Daily, The Only Order Large Enough To See.

The Shadow-past Is Shaped By Everything That Never Happened. Invisible, It Melts The Present Like Rain Through Karst. A Biography Of Longing. It Steers Us Like Magnetism, A Spirit Torque. This Is How One Becomes Undone By A Smell, A Word, A Place, The Photo Of A Mountain Of Shoes. By Love That Closes Its Mouth Before Calling A Name.