And then we ease him out of that worn-out body with a kiss, and he's gone like a whisper, the easiest breath.
The physical reinvention of the world is endless, relentless, fascinating, exhaustive; nothing that seems solid is. If you could stand at just a little distance in time, how fluid and shape-shifting physical reality would be, everything hurrying into some other form, even concrete, even stone.
What did you think, that joy / was some slight thing?
Love, I think, is a gateway to the world, not an escape from it.
