More And More I Feel Like A

When I Was 16, I Started Publishing All Kinds Of Things In School Magazines.

I'm Not Senile," I Snapped. "if I Burn The House Down It Will Be On Purpose.

I Sometimes Felt As If These Marks On My Body Were A Kind Of Code, Which Blossomed, Then Faded, Like Invisible Ink Held To A Candle. But If They Were A Code, Who Held The Key To It? I Was Sand, I Was Snow — Written On, Rewritten, Smoothed Over.

Ten Days After The War Ended, My Sister Laura Drove A Car Off A Bridge.

No Matter How Much You've Been Warned, Death Always Comes Without Knocking. Why Now? Is The Cry. Why So Soon? It's The Cry Of A Child Being Called Home At Dusk.