I Am Extremely Close To My Brother,

It's Funny To Think About The Uncanny Reflexively, As An Author Who Is Perhaps Gradually Becoming Aware Of My Own Hidden Secrets. Accessing That Shadowy Territory Really Requires The Physical Act Of Writing.

Hopes Were Wallflowers. Hopes Hugged The Perimeter Of A Dance Floor In Your Brain, Tugging At Their Party Lace, All Perfume And Hems And Doomed Expectation. They Fanned Their Dance Cards, These Guests That Pressed Against The Walls Of Your Heart.

Could We Betray Our Parents By Going Back To Them?

Regret Is A Pilgrimage Back To The Place Where I Was Free To Choose.

People Really Get Myopic As They Get Older. We're Not A Culture That Encourages Dreaming Or Distraction. We're Not Ever Good At Just Being. I Remember Reading Some Adrienne Rich Quote Where She Talks About How Important It Was Just To Watch Bubbles Rise In A Glass.