Woke Up This Morning With A Terrific

It's Possible, In A Poem Or Short Story, To Write About Commonplace Things And Objects Using Commonplace But Precise Language, And To Endow Those Things—a Chair, A Window Curtain, A Fork, A Stone, A Woman's Earring—with Immense, Even Startling Power.

A Man Can Go Along Obeying All The Rules And Then It Don't Matter A Damn Anymore.

I Loved You So Much Once. I Did. More Than Anything In The Whole Wide World. Imagine That. What A Laugh That Is Now. Can You Believe It? We Were So Intimate Once Upon A Time I Can't Believe It Now. The Memory Of Being That Intimate With Somebody. We Were So Intimate I Could Puke. I Can't Imagine Ever Being That Intimate With Somebody Else. I Haven't Been.

I've Done As Many As 20 Or 30 Drafts Of A Story. Never Less Than 10 Or 12 Drafts.

The Places Where Water Comes Together With Other Water. Those Places Stand Out In My Mind Like Holy Places.