Its Always Been My Tendency

Through This Feeling Of Helplessness Suddenly Burst A Piercing Nostalgia For The Lost World Of Childhood. The Way It Came Right Up Against The Heart, That World, And Against The Face. No Indoors Or Outdoors, Only Everything Touching Us, And The Grown-ups Lumbering Past Overhead Like Constellations.

When We Were Arguing On My Twenty-fourth Birthday, She Left The Kitchen, Came Back With A Pistol, And Fired It At Me Five Times From Right Across The Table. But She Missed. It Wasn't My Life She Was After. It Was More. She Wanted To Eat My Heart And Be Lost In The Desert With What She'd Done, She Wanted To Fall On Her Knees And Give Birth From It, She Wanted To Hurt Me As Only A Child Can Be Hurt By Its Mother.

Sometimes What I Wouldn't Give To Have Us Sitting In A Bar Again At 9:00 A.m. Telling Lies To One Another, Far From God.

How Could I Do It, How Could A Person Go That Low? And I Understand Your Question, To Which I Reply, Are You Kidding? That's Nothing. I'd Been Much Lower Than That. And I Expected To See Myself Do Worse.

Write The Unpublishable.. .and Then Publish It.