The ordinary light highlighted by touching his glorious rouged face. 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.