“I too am minute as ashes with the fine grain of my feeling running crisscross into dark where I sight you enviously at the blurred roots and the ospreys play there, they have second sight like sponges, loving both canal and river, commuting as you on water, fearful of this group of buildings, even going underground. You like it because your eyes see further, even as a rock quarry is graceful with your initials as the sorrowful poem’s end.” -Barbara Guest, “Even Ovid” When news of the accident...
Fits and Starts...and then more fits.
1 day ago