Hope Begins In The Dark.

Tidiness Makes Me Think Of Held Breath, Of Suspended Animation.

I Don't Write About The Intimate Details Of My Cousins And Aunts And Uncles, And My Mother And My Father Because It's Not Right To, For Me.

Grace Is The Light Or Electricity Or Juice Or Breeze That Takes You From That Isolated Place And Puts You With Others Who Are As Startled And Embarrassed And Eventually Grateful As You Are To Be There.

Everything Takes Me Forever. It's All Lurch, Flail. I Hope That Is Good News To You Writers.

If You Want To Make God Laugh, Tell Her Your Plans.