In the vestibule of a K-Mart, gumball machines named Heart Breakers; More Playing Cards; Gotta Catch Them All...ask me the question: Why did we evolve into beings who are miraculously self-reflective, yet containing the seeds of our conscious experience, the unconscious regulators and stimulators that form and order our reality. For the interior cave is not simply the womb or fount of cosmic creation. It also represents that creative source within the human mind, where the human creator momentarily experiences himself as usually perplexed?

The writer must confront the resistances. Why else do we write?

i've been given a large plant, which   i place it in a pail of water on the kitchen floor, where it immediately begins steaming. Quickly coming to a boil, one thick green limb splits down its side, revealing a woman, whom i vaguely recognize, standing inside, smiling.

Perhaps our dreams are only relevant if we make them so. Or,

When it comes to the human brain, there may be no unifying insight that transforms chaos into order.

Blue uniforms pace with polished batons and squawking boxes past pictures capturing souls   from New York to Asia, Europe and Latin America in vibrant tones of fabric and flesh.

Remembered is a name from a label beneath a painting of  Buddha seated in a cloud of unknowing, with blue shrouds brushed into white nothingness, an unmappable field sealed behind a pane of reflective glass.