Refuse again to speak.

Retain those words that, brimming your heart, have hung so long, so low, that even you cannot with certainty declare them words, or thoughts, or there at all.

Or say it – just say it – “I was not loved.”

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My Gossamer Universe

The prismatic exactitude of a rainbow, the guttered dirt and leaves of spring, a heart replete with love: all these perceptions can be explained and even addressed as functions of physical laws.

But they cannot be rendered small by an infinite universe that contains but does not itself perceive them, a universe that neither knows nor cares about having brought them to be.

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In Stitches

Driving home with the dad of my two youngest – my mom and one of them in the back seat – I recalled and recounted the moments just before my surgery earlier in the day. As they wheeled me into the OR, with the morphine drip started, I peered keenly, one after another, into the faces that surrounded me. One particularly beautiful face made me feel calm and happy, and I told this nurse, “I love you.” Laughter jolted me away from that face and toward another, and another – “I love you all.”

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Logical Conclusion

The logical conclusion
of your first dark look
follows a classical line
of argument
from guarded greetings
and breathless sudden sightings
to the inevitable
and impermeable
privacy of embrace
[that cannot both be
and not be:
reductio ad absurdum].

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