Myths Are Stories About People

If Your Way Of Life Is Writing, Then Everything That Happens Becomes A Sentence.

When An Ecstatic Is Asked The Question, What Is It That Love Dares The Self To Do? She Will Answer: Love Dares The Self To Leave Itself Behind, To Enter Into Poverty.

I Don't Read Reviews And I Don't Know What To Do With Opinions, So I Just Lose Them. They Take Up Space, They Become A Process Of Manufacturing A Persona, Which I Want To Avoid.

That Night We Made Love "the Real Way" Which We Had Not Yet Attempted Although Married Six Months. Big Mystery. No One Knew Where To Put Their Leg And To This Day I'm Not Sure We Got It Right. He Seemed Happy. You're Like Venice He Said Beautifully. Early Next Day I Wrote A Short Talk ("on Defloration") Which He Stole And Had Published In A Small Quarterly Magazine. Overall This Was A Characteristic Interaction Between Us. Or Should I Say Ideal. Neither Of Us Had Ever Seen Venice.

Blessed Be They Whose Lives Do Not Taste Of Evilbut If Some God Shakes Your Houseruin Arrivesruin Does Not Leaveit Comes Tolling Over The Generationsit Comes Rolling The Black Night Salt Up From The Ocean Floorand All Your Thrashed Coasts Groan