Love Is A Check, That Can Be

We Read So That We Can Be Moved By A New Way Of Looking At Things.

I Imagined My Soul Taking In These Words Like Silicated Water In The Petrified Forest, Turning My Wood To Patterned Agate. I Liked It When My Mother Shaped Me This Way. I Thought Clay Must Feel Happy In The Good Potter's Hand.

She Wanted To Wake Up Like Dorothy And See Michael's Face Peering Over The Side Of The Bed, Laughing. Why, You Just Hit Your Head. But It Was Not A Dream And There Was No Kansas And He Was Never Coming Back.

The Night Crackled ... Everything Had Turned To Static Electricity In The Heat. I Combed My Hair To Watch The Sparks Fly From The Ends.

Echo, The Death Of A Sound That Had Nowhere To Go But To Come Back.