Pain Didn't Ever Really Stop, He Thought;

I Stand Here Waiting. To Disappear Or Sing.

I Pounded Through The Houses, Staggering Down The Hallways, Falling Down The Steps. It Was A Hot Streaky Dawn Full Of Insecticides, Exhaust, Flowers That Could Make You Sick Or Fall In Love. My Battered Impala Was Still Parked There On The Side Of The Road And I Wanted To Lie Down On The Shredded Seats And Sleep And Sleep. But I Thought Of The Bones; I Could Hear Them Singing. They Needed Me To Write Their Song.

I Could See The Veins Through Your Skin Like A Map To Inside You. How Could Skin Be That Thin? I Was So Afraid You Might Drop And Break. I Stopped Breathing So You Wouldn't.

Writing Is Literally Transformative. When We Read, We Are Changed. When We Write, We Are Changed. It's Neurological. To Me, This Is A Kind Of Magic.

Any Alphabet Book For Children Where 'p Is For Patti' Smith And 'x Is For The Women Whose Names We Don't Know' Is Something I Can Recommend, Especially When The Book Is As Well Written, Representationa Lly Diverse And Vividly Illustrated As This One.