I Understood That 'the Yellow Birds' Would

You Want To Fall, That's All. You Think It Can't Go On Like That. It's As If Your Life Is A Perch On The Edge Of A Cliff And Going Forward Seems Impossible, Not For A Lack Of Will, But A Lack Of Space. The Possibility Of Another Day Stands In Defiance Of The Laws Of Physics. And You Can't Go Back. So You Want To Fall, Let Go, Give Up, But You Can't. And Every Breath You Take Reminds You Of That Fact. So It Goes.

The World Makes Liars Of Us All.

I Guess I Find The Boundaries Between Poetry And Prose To Be Somewhat Permeable.

Michael Koryta's Those Who Wish Me Dead Is An Absolutely Thrilling Read. I Read Most Of It With My Breath Held, Occasionally Exhaling To Ask Myself, 'what Will Happen Next?' I Highly Recommend It.

It Reminded Me Of Talking, How What Is Said Is Never Quite What Was Thought, And What Is Heard Is Never Quite What Was Said. It Wasn’t Much In The Way Of Comfort, But Everything Has A Little Failure In It, And We Still Make Do Somehow.