To Be A Tourist Is To Escape

Perhaps We've Invented Conspiracies For Our Own Psychic Well-being, To Heal Ourselves.

You Gave Yourself Away, Word By Word, Every Time You Opened Your Trap To Speak.

Man's Guilt In History And In The Tides Of His Own Blood Has Been Complicated By Technology, The Daily Seeping Falsehearted Death.

In These Night Recitations We Create A Space Between Things As We Felt Them At The Time And As We Speak Them Now. This Is The Space Reserved For Irony, Sympathy And Fond Amusement, The Means By Which We Rescue Ourselves From The Past.

In My Experience, Writing A Novel Tends To Create Its Own Structure, Its Own Demands, Its Own Language, Its Own Ending.