My Disappointments Stand Up And Grow Ever

There Are Things That Make Us Choose, On Certain Days, On Certain Nights, The Opposite Of Love, In All Its Variations. But I Want To Acknowledge That With Love And Hate It's Not Simply One Or The Other. It's At Least Two, Three, Four, Five Different Emotions Existing At Once, Side By Side, A Broad Spectrum Of Things Alive.

I've Written A Book About My Mother, And I Don't Remember Anyone Going To Antigua Or Calling Up My Mother And Verifying Her Life. There Is Something About This Book That Drives People Mad With The Autobiographical Question.

A Psychiatrist Once Asked Me To Draw A Picture Of My Family. This Is When I Was A Member Of A Family Of Four. I Drew The Three Other People In The Family First, Bodies And Heads. And Then, Last, I Began To Draw Myself - But Gave Up.

Gardeners (or Just Plain Simple Writers Who Write About The Garden) Always Have Something They Like Intensely And In Particular, Right At The Moment You Engage Them In The Reality Of The Borders They Cultivate, The Space In The Garden They Occupy At Any Moment, They Like In Particular This, Or They Like In Particular That.

In The Place I Am From ... A Grave Is Topped Off With A Huge Mound Of Loose Earth - Carelessly, As If Piled Up In Child's Play, Not Serious At All - Because Death Is Just Another Way Of Being, And The Dead Will Not Stay Put, And Sometimes The Actions Of The Dead Are More Significant, More Profound, Than Their Actions In Life, And No Structure Of Concrete Or Stone Can Contain Them.