They Were Two Superior Eels

You Doubt God? Well More To The Point I Credit God With The Good Sense To Doubt Me. What Is Mortality After All But Divine Doubt Flashing Over Us? For An Instant God Suspends Assent And Poof! We Disappear.

There Is Something About The Way That Greek Poets, Say Aeschylus, Use Metaphor That Really Attracts Me. I Don't Think I Can Imitate It, But There's A Density To It That I Think I'm Always Trying To Push Towards In English.

We're Talking About The Struggle To Drag A Thought Over From The Mush Of The Unconscious Into Some Kind Of Grammar, Syntax, Human Sense; Every Attempt Means Starting Over With Language. Starting Over With Accuracy.

Sometimes I Dream A Sentence And Write It Down. It’s Usually Nonsense, But Sometimes It Seems A Key To Another World.

Beauty Spins And The Mind Moves. To Catch Beauty Would Be To Understand How That Impertinent Stability In Vertigo Is Possible. But No, Delight Need Not Reach So Far. To Be Running Breathlessly, But Not Yet Arrived, Is Itself Delightful, A Suspended Moment Of Living Hope.