She Brushed Her Eyelashes Against His Chest.

They Learned To Hate Her Unknowability, Her Untouchability, The Collage Of Her.

In The Water I Saw My Father's Face, And That Face Saw The Face Of Its Father, And So On, And So On, Reflecting Backward To The Beginning Of Time, To The Face Of God, In Whose Image We Were Created.

Is That Growing Old? Or Is It Something Worse?

Weeks Passed Like Boats Waiting To Sail Into The Starless Dawn, We Were Full Of Aimless Endless Darkness.

Stories About Food Are Stories About Us-our History And Our Values.