On A Good Day I Write, All

I Offer Emily Half Of My Hit Of Acid- Love Saves The Day. It's My Second Or Third Time Tripping, Emily's First, And She's Understandably Trepid. Awake All Night, At One Point I Find Her Touching Her Reflection In A Cruelly Lit Dorm Bathroom, Asking If She'll Ever Be The Same. I Kiss Her Then For The First Time And Whisper, No.

By The Time I Make My Way To The Border Of Mauritania, To The Edge Of The Sahara, I See No End To Being Lost. You Can Spend Your Entire Life Simply Falling In That Direction. It Isn't A Station You Reach But Just The General State Of Going Down. Once You Make It Back, If You Make It Back, You Will Stand Before Your Long-lost Friends But In Some Essential Way They Will No Longer Know You.

Trinity Park Lies Directly Across From The Library, Trinity Church Rising Like A Midieval Thought Amidst The Glass And Steel Towers.

What You Fear Your Whole Life Comes To Pass. You End Up Living Toward It, You Spend Your Life Running From It But Your Foot Is Nailed To The Sidewalk. You Circle Around It Until You Wear Yourself Own.

I Became An Electrician After High School. But I Always Had This Thing In Me To Write. But It Was Always A Little Shameful. To Say You Were A Poet Was Saying You Were Kind Of Crazy, And I Carried That Around For A Long Time. I Still Kind Of Carry That. And I Think It Might Be True, Actually.