Telling A Story Of Illness,

Telling A Story Of Illness, One Pulls A Thread Through A Narrow Opening Flanked On One Side By Shame And The Other By Trivia.

We Are Nature. We Are Nature Seeing Nature. We Are Nature With A Concept Of Nature. Nature Weeping. Nature Speaking Of Nature To Nature.

I Think Artists Can Go To A Level Of Vision That Can Often Save Us From A Situation Which Seems To Have No Solution Whatsoever.

I Love That Moment In Writing When Language Falls Short. There Is Something More There. A Larger Body. Even By The Failure Of Words I Begin To Detect Its Dimensions. As I Work The Prose, Shift The Verbs, Look For New Adjectives, A Different Rhythm, Syntax, Something New Begins To Come To The Surface.

It Is A Grief Over The Fate Of The Earth That Contains Within It A Joyful Hope, That We Might Reclaim This Earth.