I Believe Poetry Has Very Little To

There Are Many Ways To Drown, Only The Most Obvious Wave Their Arms As They're Going Under.

There Is A Physics To The World, Which Non-fiction Has A Contract To Stand In Awe Of, Otherwise It Becomes Completely Self-centered And Ego-driven, Which Is The Death Of A Memoir.

Perhaps It Is Our Fear, That In The Silence Between Stories, In The Moment Of Falling, The Fear That We Will Never Find The One Story Which Will Save Us, And So We Lunge For Another, And We Feel Safe Again, If Only For As Long As We Are Telling It.

We Got Him To Talk To A Psych Doctor Once, The Doctor Asked If He Heard Things Other People Don't. Sure, Paul Answered, I Hear Birds In The Morning When Everyone's Sleeping, I Hear Trees Rustling When No One's Around.

I Offer Emily Half Of My Hit Of Acid- Love Saves The Day. It's My Second Or Third Time Tripping, Emily's First, And She's Understandably Trepid. Awake All Night, At One Point I Find Her Touching Her Reflection In A Cruelly Lit Dorm Bathroom, Asking If She'll Ever Be The Same. I Kiss Her Then For The First Time And Whisper, No.