Most Things Good For Writing Are Bad

Forgiveness Lives Alone And Far Off Down The Road, But Bitterness And Art Are Close, Gossipy Neighbors, Sharing The Same Clothesline, Hanging Out Their Things, Getting Their Laundry Confused.

But I Believed In Starting Over. There Was Finally, I Knew, Only Rupture And Hurt And Falling Short Between All Persons, But, Shirley, The Best Revenge Was To Turn Your Life Into A Small Gathering Of Miracles. If I Could Not Be Anchored And Profound, I Would Try, At Least, To Be Kind.

My New Apartment Might Be A Place Where There Are Lots Of Children. They Might Gather On My Porch To Play, And When I Step Out For Groceries, They Will Ask Me, "hi, Do You Have Any Kids?" And Then, "why Not, Don't You Like Kids?" "i Like Kids," I Will Explain. "i Like Kids Very Much." And When I Almost Run Over Them With My Car, In My Driveway, I Will Feel Many Different Things.

I Don’t Go Back And Look At My Early Work, Because The Last Time I Did, Many Years Ago, It Left Me Cringing. If One Publishes, Then One Is Creating A Public Record Of Learning To Write.

She Was Afraid, And The Afraid, She Realized, Sought Opportunities For Bravery In Love.