Last Week I Was Just

I Say Too Much Of What, He Says Too Much Of Everything, Too Much Stuff, Too Many Places, Too Much Information, Too Many People, Too Much Of Things For There To Be Too Much Of, There Is Too Much To Know And I Don't Know Where To Begin But I Want To Try.

There Are Only These: Sparkling Eyes, Smudged Lipstick, Fading Starlight, The Crunching Of Feet On Gravel, Laughter, And A Slow Walk Home.

All The Emails I Get These Days Start With Sorry But I've Been So Busy, And I Don't Understand How We Can Be So Busy And Then Have Nothing To Say To Each Other.

Last Week I Was Just Someone Who Had Had A First Novel Published.

It Takes A Lot Of Energy And Creativity To Make Such Screwed Up Lives Carry On. And The Kind Of Will People Have To Survive, Year After Year, Dealing With That Stuff, Is Weirdly Impressive.