My Job ... I Do Nothing, It

We Can Only Die In The Future, I Thought; Right Now We Are Always Alive.

The Worst Of It Is Over Now, And I Can't Say That I Am Glad. Lose That Sense Of Loss—you Have Gone And Lost Something Else. But The Body Moves Toward Health. The Mind, Too, In Steps. One Step At A Time. Ask A Mother Who Has Just Lost A Child, How Many Children Do You Have? "four," She Will Say, "—three," And Years Later, "three," She Will Say, "—four.

Sometimes A Flat-footed Sentence Is What Serves, So You Don't Get All Writerly: 'he Opened The Door.' There, It's Open.

I Moved Through The Days Like A Severed Head That Finishes A Sentence.

Wear Your Heart On The Page, And People Will Read To Find Out How You Solved Being Alive.