Following are lines written by my great friend Bill Goyan, long dead but lovingly (and evermore) remembered. A writer of great originality from East Texas with unique, rarified sensibilities. The courage he had to experiment with plot and character in his unconventional, heart-stopping work has been an inspiration and will shortly go the limit in my coming novel NOT NOT A JEW – A NOVEL IN VERSTS. If I’ve any credo, Bill has encapsulated it in this excerpt:

All the history that we saw on the map in the kitchen pours into us and we contain it, we display it like a map for others to look at and be history … Go into the world, go build cities, go discover countries: go spread love, go give, go make magnificence, get and give light, save and join and piece together (as you did the bits of string and cloth and whittled wood to make your ship) … and put it combined and formed and shaped, into the world like a bottle with a ship in it. Gather the broken pieces, connect them: these are the only things we have to work with. For we have been given a broken world to live in – make like a map of a world where all things are linked together and murmur through each other like a line of whispering people, like a chain of whispers … a round, strong, clear song of total meaning, a language within language, responding each to each forever in the memory of each man.

THE HOUSE OF BREATH – William Goyan

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