That's What Sons Do: Write To Their

That's What Sons Do: Write To Their Mothers About Recall, Tell Themselves About The Past Until They Come To Realize That They Are The Past.

He Looks Like The Sort Of Man Who Can't Afford To Leave, And Doesn't Want To Stay, And So He Is Doing Both At Once.

The Stars Looked Like Nail Heads In The Sky--pull A Few Of Them Out And The Darkness Would Fall.

He Felt For A Moment Uncreated. Another Kind Of Awake.

I Am Of The Opinion, And Even More So The Older I Get, That It Is More Difficult To Have Hope Than It Is To Despair. And I Mean This In The Sense That In Order To Have Hope You Must Acknowledge The Despair And Then You Have To Get Beyond It. Taken From A Radio Interview Given On Bbc Radio 4's Open Book