We Talked Death With Burned-up

It Is In The Small Things We See It. The Child's First Step, As Awesome As An Earthquake. The First Time You Rode A Bike, Wallowing Up The Sidewalk.

It Was My First Doll That Water Went Into And Water Came Out Of Much Earlier It Was The Diaper I Wore And The Dirt Thereof And My Mother Hating Me For It

And The Aura Of You Remains, Remains, Remains...

Nature Is Full Of Teeth That Come In One By One, Then Decay, Fall Out.

I Think Of Myself As Writing For One Person, That One Perfect Reader Who Understands And Loves.