I must read. I must read. I must read.

I do not know anything about Art with a capital A. What I do know about is my art. Because it concerns me. I do not speak for others. So I do not speak for things which profess to speak for others. My art, however, speaks for me. It lights my way.

Maybe you saw her first? Caught a glimpse between the lines, between the letters, like a ghost in the mirror, a ghost in the wings?

...and there you have it, another body on the floor surrounded by things that don't mean much to anyone except to the one who can't take any of them along.

What miracle is this? This giant tree. It stands ten thousand feet high But doesn't reach the ground. Still it stands. Its roots must hold the sky.

Everyone loves the Dream but I kill it.

The ruminations are mine, let the world be yours.