Waging War Is Not A

... This Is The Paradox Of Vision: Sharp Perception Softens Our Existence In The World.

Perhaps Every Moment Of Time Lived In Human Consciousness Remains In The Air Around Us.

A Story Is Told As Much By Silence As By Speech.

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.

I Know I Am Made From This Earth, As My Mother's Hands Were Made From This Earth, As Her Dreams Came From This Earth And All That I Know, I Know In This Earth, The Body Of The Bird, This Pen, This Paper, These Hands, This Tongue Speaking, All That I Know Speaks To Me Through This Earth.