All Choices Are Illusions, Or If They

I'm Always Most Interested In Writing About Things That I Don't Understand.

The Details Of The World In Which We Live Are Always Secondary To The Fact That We Must Live In Them.

The Male Role Models I Had All Seemed To Have Been In The Military. My Father Served In The Army. My Uncle Was In The Marine Corps. Both Of My Grandfathers Served In Wwii. There Weren't Any Career Soldiers In My Family, But When I Was Young It Seemed Like A Way Of Arriving At Adulthood.

There's Something Immediate About The Experience Of Reading A Poem. It Makes Sense In My Own Mind, But I'm Trying To Figure Out A Way To Articulate It... It's Like Looking At A Painting: You're Able To Take In The Totality Of The Work All At Once, And So Processing Whatever Information That Painting Is Giving You Is Almost Secondary To Simply Apprehending What's In Front Of You.

All Choices Are Illusions, Or If They Are Not Illusions Their Strength Is Illusory, For One Choice Must Contend With The Choices Of All The Other Men And Women Deciding Anything In That Moment.