Last night I couldn't sleep so I thought of things that made me happy instead of crying and I distracted myself by looking for poetry appropriate to a situation, and I tried to memorize it. And I've been crazy stupid for so long now. I wrote some, too, beautiful. I've been crazy stupid.

Ever been humbled before the eyes of heaven?

I feel poetic now, I'm standing in bookland in brunswick and I'm out with Emily and George and my understanding of everything around me as of late has been jerked out from under me, I feel like writing poetry, and I don't feel like letting someone who I know will read this read this, don't feel like letting him in any farther. The one poem I discovered last night that wasn't for him suddenly is, suddenly hurtfully damn it.

I'm going too fast, and I only have...probably two more minutes before bookland gets angry at me for using this.

On with it.