It Was A Miracle; It Was All

A Truly Living Human Being Cannot Remain Neutral.

I Believe - I Know (there Are Not Many Things I Should Care To Dogmatize About, On The Subject Of Writing) That Writers Need Solitude, And Seek Alienation Of A Kind Every Day Of Their Working Lives. (and Remember, They Are Not Even Aware When And When Not They Are Working.) ... The Tension Between Standing Apart And Being Fully Involved; That Is What Makes A Writer.

September 2001. A Sunny Day In New York. Many Of Us Who Are Writers Were At Work On The Transformation Of Life Into A Poem, Story, A Chapter Of A Novel, When Terror Pounced From The Sky, And The World Made Witness To It.

Everyone Ends Up Moving Alone Towards The Self

The Country Of The Tourist Pamphlet Always Is Another Country, An Embarrassing Abstraction Of The Desirable That, Thank God, Does Not Exist On This Planet, Where There Are Always Ants And Bad Smells And Empty Coca-cola Bottles To Keep The Grubby Finger-print Of Reality Upon The Beautiful.