If You're Gonna Do Something

My Fingers Curl Through The Holes In The Wicker, Through The Wet Grass Beneath It, Trying To Hold Tight To The Sharp Blades Of The Present. Somewhere In My Brain A Sinkhole Is Bubbling Over, And Each Bubble Contains A Scene From A Tiny Sunken World ... I Have Never Been The Prophet Of My Own Past Before. It Makes Me Wonder How The Healthy Dreamers Can Bear To Sleep At All, If Sleep Means That You Have To Peer Into That Sinkhole By Yourself. ... I Had Almost Forgotten This Occipital Sorrow, The Way You Are So Alone With The Things You See In Dreams.

Mythology Is A Really Beautiful Vocabulary Passed Down Through Centuries That Helps Us Understand The Perennial Parts Of Our Nature.

I Hope That In My Thirties I Grow As A Writer, Push Into New Territory.

My Backyard Was Replete With Madness, It Just Grew Indigenously In South Florida.

A Food Truce, The Picnic Suspension Of Oedipal Feeling That Permits The Generations To Love Each Other At Family Reunions.