It Is Odd That We Never Question

I Wonder If I Don't Give Too Much Of Myself To Writing: I Am Always Half Where I Am; The Other Half Is Feeding The Furnace, Kick-starting The Heat Of Creativity. I Am Making Love With Someone But At The Same Time I'm Noticing How This Graceful Hand Across My Belly Might Just Fit In With The Memory Of Lilacs In Albuquerque In 1974.

Trust In What You Love, Continue To Do It, And It Will Take You Where You Need To Go. And Don't Worry Too Much About Security. You Will Eventually Have A Deep Security When You Begin To Do What You Want.

We Are Each A Concert Reverberating With Our Whole Lives And Reflecting And Amplifying The World Around Us.

We Are Searching For The Core Of Our Lives; Our Culture Intuits That Writing, That Ancient Activity, Might Be The Pathway...awakening Does Not Feed Ego's Needs And Desires; It Pulverizes The Self. Our Society Couldn't Knowingly Bear Such Reduction, So We've Tricked Ourselves Into The Same Path But Call It Writing.

I Am Free To Write The Worst Junk In The World.