I Wish I Knew How To Quit

For If Jack Buggit Could Escape From The Pickle Jar, If A Bird With A Broken Neck Could Fly Away, What Else Might Be Possible? Water May Be Older Than Light, Diamonds Crack In Hot Goat's Blood, Mountaintops Give Off Cold Fire, Forests Appear In Mid-ocean, It May Happen That A Crab Is Caught With The Shadow Of A Hand On Its Back, And That The Wind Be Imprisoned In A Bit Of Knotted String. And It May Be That Love Sometimes Occurs Without Pain Or Misery.

Walking On The Land Or Digging In The Fine Soil I Am Intensely Aware That Time Quivers Slightly, Changes Occurring In Imperceptible And Minute Ways, Accumulating So Subtly That They Seem Not To Exist. Yet The Tiny Shifts In Everything--cell Replication, The Rain Of Dust Motes, Lengthening Hair, Wind-pushed Rocks--press Inexorably On And On.

It Takes A Year, Nephew... A Full Turn Of The Calendar, To Get Over Losing Someone.

Everybody That Went Away Suffered A Broken Heart. "i'm Coming Back Some Day," They All Wrote. But Never Did. The Old Life Was Too Small To Fit Anymore.

I Would Rather Be Dead Than Not Read