“Touch"You are alreadyasleep. I lowermyself in next toyou, my skin slightlynumb with the restraintof habits, the patina ofself, the black frostof outsideness, so that evenunclothed it isa resilient chillyhardness, a superficiallymalleable, deadrubbery texture.You are a moundof bedclothes, where the catin sleep bracesits paws against yourcalf through the blankets,and kneads each paw in turn.Meanwhile and slowlyI feel a is it my own warmth surfacing orthe ferment of your wholebody that in darkness beneaththe cover is stealingbit by bit to breakdown that chill.You turn andhold me tightly, doyou know whoI am or am Iyour mother orthe nearest human being tohold on to in a dreamed pogrom.What I, now loosened,sink into is an oldbig place, it isthere already, foryou are alreadythere, and the catgot there before you, yetit is hard to locate.What is more, the place isnot found but seepsfrom our touch incontinuous creation, darkenclosing cocoon roundourselves alone, darkwide realm where we walk with everyone.”

“The snail pushes through a greennight, for the grass is heavywith water and meets overthe bright path he makes, where rain has darkened the earth's dark. Hemoves in a wood of desire,pale antlers barely stirringas he hunts. I cannot tellwhat power is at work, drenched therewith purpose, knowing nothing.What is a snail's fury? AllI think is that if laterI parted the blades abovethe tunnel and saw the thintrail of broken white acrosslitter, I would never haveimagined the slow passionto that deliberate progress.”

“We control the content of our dreams.”

“Deep feeling doesn't make for good poetry. A way with language would be a bit of help.”

“As humans we look at things and think about what we've looked at. We treasure it in a kind of private art gallery.”

“That minute, that tiny second when you hit the water flat on, you lose your breath. All the air flattens out of you - like going flat out on concrete. Then the next second you're sliding through, sliding and sinking slowly to the bottom of the pool. You touch the bottom, you bounce once there gently like an astronaut. And you feel the bottom of the pool against the soles of your feet and that's queer-but not queer, because you're the same person, aren't you? Just in another place that's all, you've still got the same body there. You look around, in that blue time, in that deep place. You look around with the same eyes, at the milky chlorine blue, and you have so much time there. Deep in the water with your same body, but everything's different, everything's better.”

“Their relationship consistedIn discussing if it existed.”