Dostoyevsky was my favorite epileptic writer. Nights after a Fiction Writing class, on my way to the subway station I'd stop in the brightly-lighted library to read his notebooks.

When the bullets hit,
blood from his head
blossomed,
and he
                 fell
into a different myth.   

The Big Bang, the end of Divine Silence, began the "Music of the Spheres." Thus, the Buddha had a flower to speak for him. While Christ