Literature Can Remind Us That Not All

The City Was Bigger Than Its Buildings, Bigger Than Its Inhabitants Too. It Had Its Own Nuances. It Accepted Whatever Came Its Way, The Crime And The Violence And The Little Shocks Of Good That Crawled Out From Underneath The Everyday.

I Write Articles, And I Do Profiles Of Members Of Organizations And Associations.

One Look At Each Other And It Was Immediately Understood That They Both Needed A Clean Slate,,, The Obliteration Of Memory.

Novels Are More Difficult Simply Because They Are Longer And Require More Juggling, But Short Stories Are Closer To Perfection, If You Can Get The Language Right.

He's At Ease, His Body Sculpted To The Music, His Shoulder Searching The Other Shoulder, His Right Toe Knowing The Left Knee, The Height, The Depth, The Form, The Control, The Twist Of His Wrist, The Bend Of His Elbow, The Tilt Of His Neck, Notes Digging Into Arteries, And He Is In The Air Now, Forcing The Legs Up Beyond Muscular Memory, One Last Press Of The Thighs, An Elongation Of Form, A Loosening Of Human Contour, He Goes Higher And Is Skyheld.