But this is the wrong thing, smiling and looking at him with doting, motherly appreciation. Excerpt Author Information Order from an Independent bookstore Just before noon I often hear a voice, Cool and insistent, whispering in my head. It is the better man I might have been, Who chronicles the life I ve never led. All the waves want to come in at once. Stars rush toward earth.
Every desire has a degree in which angels lend an ear.
After all, I m not in the world yet. What he wants from me is numb, it is crushed inside the dark hole of the last place you'd ever look. I have practiced dreaming. It works sometimes. My heart is there, somewhere thrilling away.