Reality Is The Page. Life Is The

Who Was Blowing On The Nape Of My Neck?

I Rarely Ever Put My Head Above The Rampart And See Where This Big Lumbering Behemoth Called 'global Literature' Is Going.

. . .my Dreams Are The Single Unpredictable Factor In My Zoned Days And Nights. Nobody Allots Them, Or Censors Them. Dreams Are All I Have Ever Truly Owned.

Our Lives Are Not Our Own. We Are Bound To Others, Past And Present, And By Each Crime And Every Kindness, We Birth Our Future.

I Can Write Pretty Much Anywhere.