On A Good Day I

Writers, Especially Poets, Are Particularly Prone To Madness. There Exists A Striking Association Between Creativity And Manic Depression. Why Are More Creative People Prone To Madness? They Have More Than Average Amounts Of Energies And Abilities To See Things In A Fresh And Original Way—then Because They Also Have Depression, I Think They’re More In Touch With Human Suffering.

What You Fear Your Whole Life Comes To Pass. You End Up Living Toward It, You Spend Your Life Running From It But Your Foot Is Nailed To The Sidewalk. You Circle Around It Until You Wear Yourself Own.

If It Had Been A Heart Attack, The Newspapermight Have Used The Word Massive,as If A Mountain Range Had Openedinside Her, But Insteadit Used The Word Suddenly, A Light Coming Onin An Empty Room. The Telephonefell From My Shoulder, A Black Parrot Repeatingsomething Happened, Something Awfula Sunday, Dusky. If It Had Beenterminal, We Could Have Cradled Heras She Grew Smaller, Wiped Her Mouth,said Good-bye. But It Was Sudden,how Overnight We Could Be Orphaned& The World Became A Bell We'd Crawl Inside& The Ringing All We'd Eat.

By The Time I Make My Way To The Border Of Mauritania, To The Edge Of The Sahara, I See No End To Being Lost. You Can Spend Your Entire Life Simply Falling In That Direction. It Isn't A Station You Reach But Just The General State Of Going Down. Once You Make It Back, If You Make It Back, You Will Stand Before Your Long-lost Friends But In Some Essential Way They Will No Longer Know You.

Inside Us, A Flower Taken Whole, A Field Built Inside.