All mind. No mouth.

And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.

i am afraid that if i open myself i will not stop pouring. (why do i fear becoming a river. what mountain gave me such shame.)

He said he would love me like a revolution, like a religion.

We had been everywhere. We had really seen nothing. And I catch myself thinking today that our long journey had only defiled with a sinuous trail of slime the lovely, trustful, dreamy, enormous country that by then, in retrospect, was no more to us than a collection of dog-eared maps, ruined tour books, old tires, and her sobs in the night — every night, every night — the moment I feigned sleep.