Somewhere between what it feels like, to be at one with the sea, and to understand the sea as mere context for the boat whose engine refuses finally to turn over: yeah, I know the place— stumbled into it myself, once; twice, almost. All…
4 tygodnie temu
One friend tells me everything’s political, another says nothing is, we just make it political. By “we”, he means human beings, I assume— what’s political to a fox curled in sleep, or a pond, or a sycamore in winter with no leaves left…
4 tygodnie temu
What do we do with the body, do we burn it, do we set it in dirt or in stone, do we wrap it in balm, honey, oil, and then gauze and tip it onto and trust it to a raft and to water?…
4 tygodnie temu
Perhaps, in the exaggerated grace of his weight settling, the wings raised, held in strike-or-embrace position, I recognized something more than swan, I can’t say. There was just this barely defined shoulder, whose feathers came away in my hands,…
4 tygodnie temu