She Was A Sea: And I Had

It Was As Though In These Last Minutes Together - When They Had So Much To Say - They Could Say Nothing Of The Least Significance, For Fear It Open The Floodgates.

We Have Great Cities To Visit: New York And Washington, Paris And London; And Further East, And Older Than Any Of These, The Legendary City Of Samarkand, Whose Crumbling Palaces And Mosques Still Welcome Travelers On The Silk Road. Weary Of Cities? Then We’ll Take To The Wilds. To The Islands Of Hawaii And The Mountains Of Japan, To Forests Where Civil War Dead Still Lie, And Stretches Of Sea No Mariner Ever Crossed. They All Have Their Poetry: The Glittering Cities And The Ruined, The Watery Wastes And The Dusty; I Want To Show You Them All. I Want To Show You Everything.

Everything Is In Flux: Everything Changes; The Body Changes, The Soul Changes. We Are Capable Of Extraordinary Self-transmutat Ion And Internal Self-transforma Tion.

The Whole Point About Vision Is That It's Very Individual, It's Very Personal, And It Has To Be Confessional. It Has To Be Something Which Hurts - The Pulling Out Of It And Putting It On The Page Hurts. Art Can Be About The Individual Writer's Response To His Or Her Condition, And If That Response Comes Out Of A Predigested Belief About What The Audience Wants To Hear About The Writer's Condition, Then It Has No Truth, It Has No Validity. You Either Write With Your Own Blood Or Nobody's. Otherwise It's Just Ink.

With The Inevitability Of A Tongue Returning To Probe A Painful Tooth, We Come Back And Back And Back Again To Our Fears, Sitting To Talk Them Over With The Eagerness Of A Hungry Man Before A Full And Steaming Plate.