I Missed Him. Love, I Realized, Was

I Wondered About The Half-life Of Regret.

If One Publishes, Then One Is Creating A Public Record Of Learning To Write.

I Had Never Feared Insomnia Before--like Prison, Wouldn't It Just Give You More Time To Read?

Better To Think Of Writing, Of What One Does, As An Activity, Rather Than An Identity To Keep The Calling A Verb Rather Than A Noun.

Perhaps We Had At Last Reached That Stage Of Intimacy That Destroys Intimacy.