That's The Sacred Intent Of Life, Of

He'd Gone To Church For Forty Years And Was Only Getting Worse. It Seemed Like This Should Tell God Something.

I Don't Remember What They Said, Only The Fury Of Their Words, How The Air Turned Raw And Full Of Welts. Later It Would Remind Me Of Birds Trapped Inside A Closed Room, Flinging Themselves Against The Windows And The Walls, Against Each Other.

As An Adolescent, I Went To Charm School, Where I Learned To Pour Tea And Relate To Boys, Which, As I Recall, Meant Giving Them The Pickle Jar To Unscrew, Whether It Was Too Hard For Me Or Not.

It Shocks Me How I Wish For...what Is Lost And Cannot Come Back.

If Someone Should Ask Me, 'what Does The Soul Do?' I Would Say, It Does Two Things. It Loves. And It Creates. Those Are Its Primary Acts.