The Length Of Sky Is

We Have These Earthly Bodies. We Don't Know What They Want. Half The Time, We Pretend They Are Under Our Mental Thumb, But That Is The Illusion Of The Healthy And The Protected. Of Sedate Lovers. For The Body Has Emotions It Conceives And Carries Through Without Concern For Anyone Or Anything Else. Love Is One Of Those, I Guess. Going Back To Something Very Old Knit Into The Brain As We Were Growing. Hopeless. Scorching. Ordinary.

When We Are Young, The Words Are Scattered All Around Us. As They Are Assembled By Experience, So Also Are We, Sentence By Sentence, Until The Story Takes Shape.

In Our Own Beginnings, We Are Formed Out Of The Body's Interior Landscape. For A Short While, Our Mothers' Bodies Are The Boundaries And Personal Geography Which Are All That We Know Of The World...once We No Longer Live Beneath Our Mother's Heart, It Is The Earth With Which We Form The Same Dependent Relationship, Relying...on Its Cycles And Elements, Helpless Without Its Protective Embrace.

My Mind Ran Over Scenes Of Shesheeb Seducing Margaret Until I Was A Wagon Dragged By The Runaway Horses Of My Jealousy.

Money Helps, Though Not So Much As You Think When You Don't Have It.