Believe In The Holy Contour Of Life.

The Air Was So Sweet In New Orleans It Seemed To Come In Soft Bandannas; And You Could Smell The River And Really Smell The People, And Mud, And Molasses, And Every Kind Of Tropical Exhalation, With Your Nose Suddenly Removed From The Dry Ices Of A Northern Winter.

Keep It Kickwriting At All Costs Too, That Is, Write Only What Kicks You And Keeps You Overtime Awake From Sheer Mad Joy.

Writing At Least Is A Silent Meditation Even Though You’re Going A Hundred Miles An Hour.

We Wandered In A Frenzy And A Dream (301).

Rest And Be Kind, You Don't Have To Prove Anything