Money Helps, Though Not So Much As

Can You Stop Your Mother From Singing To You? Who Would Do Such A Thing?

At Times The Whole Sky Was Ringed In Shooting Points And Puckers Of Light Gathering And Falling, Pulsing, Fading, Rhythmical As Breathing. All Of A Piece. As If The Sky Were A Pattern Of Nerves And Our Thought And Memories Traveled Across It. As If The Sky Were One Gigantic Memory For Us All.

We Started Dying Before The Snow, And Like The Snow, We Continued To Fall.

When Small Towns Find They Cannot Harm The Strangest Of Their Members, When Eccentrics Show Resilience, They Are Eventually Embraced And Even Cherished.

You See I Thought Love Got Easier Over The Years So It Didn't Hurt So Bad When It Hurt, Or Feel So Good When It Felt Good. I Thought It Smoothed Out And Old People Hardly Noticed It. I Thought It Curled Up And Died, I Guess. Now I Saw It Rear Up Like A Whip And Lash.