the day the whole world went away...lying on the tracks when the rocks begin to dance reminds me of the feeling just before i break the surface, that feeling of nihilism, of what if i just stayed here until everything stops, that feeling of needing to evaluate because there might be some careless mistakes in there gumming up the works and maybe it should all be shucked out the door and a new one built in its place...there is relief later but for now, that pressure, that tension, that sense of great things about to occur even if they lead to blood and weeping

there is a moment when the blade presses but has not yet begun to cut...that moment before there is no turning back when the doubt also presses in and the mind must decide whether to accept the temptation, that final moment of action, that instance of decisiveness

there is an emptiness from which the mind will not return and bhudda is not there, though there seems to be light it is cold and void and without love of any kind, there is no frame on which to hang a life and it dissipates like vapor once the whistle has begun to blow

you can never go home because a prophet is without honor in his home town