Words Are Such Small Things,

The Visual Image Is A Kind Of Tripwire For The Emotions.

Hit A Tripwire Of Smell And Memories Explode All At Once. A Complex Vision Leaps Out Of The Undergrowth.

Life Is A Thing That Mutates Without Warning, Not Always In Enviable Ways. All Part Of The Improbable Adventure Of Being Alive, Of Being A Brainy Biped With Giant Dreams On A Crazy Blue Planet.

I Watched Her Face Switch Among The Radio Stations Of Memory

The More We Exile Ourselves From Nature, The More We Crave Its Miracle Waters.