What am I contributing to if at all if at vegetable all of my bush and bramble conversation
self if at all in my life and world if I can spill a thing to him or her his holy representative in
secrecy were to write my letters and pass them on even though my secrets were nothing less than
a description of the beaches near the borders of Michigan and the organ music of an old happy lesbian next to her hearth and in her old home that reminds me of a steamship god I love it....
I can't disturb this peace. I can't be myself on it, or to it. I have to be quiet and not rub off on it or I'm
sure to fuck it up.
God help us
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