Since We Don't Know Where

This World… Belongs To The Strong, My Friend! The Ritual Of Our Existence Is Based On The Strong Getting Stronger By Devouring The Weak.

Luckily, I Remembered Something Malcolm Cowley Had Taught Us At Stanford - Perhaps The Most Important Lesson A Writing Class (not A Writer, Understand, But A Class) Can Ever Learn. 'be Gentle With One Another's Efforts,' He Often Admonished Us. 'be Kind And Considerate With Your Criticism. Always Remember That It's Just As Hard To Write A Bad Book As It Is To Write A Good Book.'

You Don't Plow Under The Corn Because The Seed Was Planted With A Neighbor's Shovel.

We Made Love. How Pedestrian The Words Look-trite, Worn, Practically Featureless With Use-but How Can One Better Describe That Which Happens When It Happens? That Creation? That Magic Blending? I Might Say We Became Figures In A Mesmerized Dance Before The Rocking Talisman Of The Moon, Starting Slow, So Slow... A Pair Of Feathers Drifting Through Clear Liquid Substance Of Sky... Gradually Accelerating, Faster And Faster And Finally Into Photon Existence Of Pure Light... As My Whole Straining Body Burst Like Fluid Electricity Into Hers.

They Can't Tell So Much About You If You Got Your Eyes Closed.