Pain Is Not Wat You Get, It

Sometimes Thinking Back On Things Is A Mistake Arising Out Of Pride, But I Guess You Live Inside A Moment For Years, Move With It And Feel It Grow, And It Sends Out Roots Until It Touches Everything In Sight.

He's At Ease, His Body Sculpted To The Music, His Shoulder Searching The Other Shoulder, His Right Toe Knowing The Left Knee, The Height, The Depth, The Form, The Control, The Twist Of His Wrist, The Bend Of His Elbow, The Tilt Of His Neck, Notes Digging Into Arteries, And He Is In The Air Now, Forcing The Legs Up Beyond Muscular Memory, One Last Press Of The Thighs, An Elongation Of Form, A Loosening Of Human Contour, He Goes Higher And Is Skyheld.

The Person We Know At First, She Thinks, Is Not The One We Know At Last.

Memory Has A Heavy Backspin, Yet It’s Still Impossible To Land Exactly Where We Took Off.

I Think It Is Our Job, As Writers, To Be Epic. Epic And Tiny At The Same Time. If You're Going To Be A Fiction Writer, Why Not Take On Something That Means Something. In Doing This, You Must Understand That Within That Epic Structure It Is The Tiny Story That Is Possibly More Important.