A first line keeps arriving unbidden, on the bus, in the half-sleep, gone by the time you find a pen. Mercury and Neptune meet at a sextile in your chart, so the precise mind and the dreaming imagination wait close together, language that can carry mist without losing shape. They come together only in quiet, when you sit down and write before you know where it goes. You wait to understand the whole thing first, and the line dissolves. Write the way you think between dreams, blind to the ending. Keep the practice and the work comes out clear enough to print and strange enough to remember. Catch the next line before it goes.
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