Her sunny side was always up.

We could see the children's toys here and there, and we saw a game that the children had made themselves out of dirt, deer antlers and abalone shells, but the game was so strange that only children could tell what it was. Perhaps it wasn't a game at all, only the grave of a game.

Finding is losing something else. I think about, perhaps even mourn, what I lost to find this

I’ll affect you slowly as if you were having a picnic in a dream. There will be no ants. It won’t rain.

Im haunted a little this evening by feelings that have no vocabulary and events that should be explained in dimensions of lint rather than words. Ive been examining half-scraps of my childhood. They are pieces of distant life that have no form or meaning. They are things that just happened like lint.

If you are thinking about something that happened a long time ago: Somebody asked you a question and you did not know the answer. That is my name.

Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee affords.