The Hands Are Churches That Worship The

Because Sometimes I Live In A Hurricane Of Words And Not One Of Them Can Save Me.

Maybe We Try Too Hard To Be Remembered, Waking To The Glowing Yellow Disc In Ignorance, Swearing That Today Will Be The Day, Today We Will Make Something Of Our Lives. What If We Are So Busy Searching For Worth That We Miss The Sapphire Sky And Cackling Blackbird. What Else Is Missing? Maybe Our Steps Are Too Straight And Our Paths Too Narrow And Not Overlapping. Maybe When They Overlap Someone In Another Country Lights A Candle, A Couple Resolves Their Argument, A Young Man Puts Down His Silver Gun And Walks Away.

There Is A Place To Stand Where You Can See So Many Lights You Forget You Are One Of Them.

If A Teacher Told Me To Revise, I Thought That Meant My Writing Was A Broken-down Car That Needed To Go To The Repair Shop. I Felt Insulted. I Didn't Realize The Teacher Was Saying, 'make It Shine. It's Worth It.' Now I See Revision As A Beautiful Word Of Hope. It's A New Vision Of Something. It Means You Don't Have To Be Perfect The First Time. What A Relief!

A Boy Told Me If He Roller-skated Fast Enough His Loneliness Couldn't Catch Up To Him, The Best Reason I Ever Heard For Trying To Be A Champion. What I Wonder Tonight Pedaling Hard Down King William Street Is If It Translates To Bicycles. A Victory! To Leave Your Loneliness Panting Behind You On Some Street Corner While You Float Free Into A Cloud Of Sudden Azaleas, Pink Petals That Have Never Felt Loneliness, No Matter How Slowly They Fell.