The Hands Are Churches That Worship The

Where We Live In The World Is Never One Place. Our Hearts, Those Dogged Mirrors, Keep Flashing Us Moons Before We Are Ready For Them.

The Hands Are Churches That Worship The World.

If A Teacher Told Me To Revise, I Thought That Meant My Writing Was A Broken-down Car That Needed To Go To The Repair Shop. I Felt Insulted. I Didn't Realize The Teacher Was Saying, 'make It Shine. It's Worth It.' Now I See Revision As A Beautiful Word Of Hope. It's A New Vision Of Something. It Means You Don't Have To Be Perfect The First Time. What A Relief!

For You Who Came So Far; For You Who Held Out, Wearing A Black Scarf To Signify Grief; For You Who Believe True Love Can Find You Amidst This Atlas Of Tears Linking One Town To Its Own Memory Of Mortar, When It Was Still A Dream To Be Built And People Moved There, Believing, And Someone With Sky And Birds In His Heart Said This Would Be A Good Place For A Park.

I Want To Be Someone Making Music/with My Coming.