The Imagination Is A Species

When Something Does Not Insist On Being Noticed, When We Aren't Grabbed By The Collar Or Struck On The Skull By A Presence Or An Event, We Take For Granted The Very Things That Most Deserve Our Gratitude.

A Writer Is Dreamed And Transfigured Into Being By Spells, Wishes, Goldfish, Silhouettes Of Trees, Boxes Of Fairy Tales Dropped In The Mud, Uncles' And Cousins' Books, Tablets And Capsules And Powders...and Then One Day You Find Yourself Leaning Here, Writing On That Round Glass Table Salvaged From The Park View Pharmacy--writing This, An Impossibility, A Summary Of Who You Came To Be Where You Are Now, And Where, God Knows, Is That?

Invention Despoils Observations, Insinuation Invalidates Memory. A Stewpot Of Bad Habits, All Of It - So That Imaginative Writers Wind Up, By And Large, A Shifty Crew, Sunk In Distortion, Misrepresentation, Illusion, Imposture, Fakery.

In Books, As In Life, There Are No Second Chances. On Second Thought: Its The Next Work, Still To Be Written, That Offers The Second Chance.

It Is True That Money Attracts; But Much Money Repels.