Longer pieces, written plainly. This is the ground underneath PathAcross — what I’ve come to think is actually going on, said in ordinary words. No belief required to read them.
The eyes were built to keep a body from walking into a wall. They were never the whole instrument.
You do not have to be falling apart. Say the true thing. Someone is here.
You do not have to finish the shelves. Access is the knowing.
Something meets you on the road. Not in the pigpen.
