A woman's body is the gate to this life. A man's body is the gate to the next life.

...which causes me to wonder, my own purpose on so many days as humble as the spider's, what is beautiful that I make? What is elegant? What feeds the world?

Our tribe unraveled like a coarse rope, frayed at either end as the old and new among us were taken.

We passed over in a sweep of sorrow that would persist into our small forever. We just keep going.

What is this life but the sound of an appalling love.

So what is wild? What is wilderness? What are dreams but an internal wilderness and what is desire but a wildness of the soul?

We all got holes in our lives. Nobody dies in a perfect garment.