To be with him is to have this sense that the moments do not matter.


What life is there other than the life of the mind? “The unexamined life is not worth living.” That statement finds worth not in the life but in the examination:

The Horses

Upon second steed will I die. First steed I know, have always known, walking over savanna by mountains along edges beneath the upstretch of the glowing crevasse, all the distances dreamy and stretching for me, for me and for him.


Predation is the incompleteness of the world. The cat hunts out of its pain. The world groaned for its daughters and its sons to be revealed. When we at last found peace,


He needs as many rooms as he has selves in conflict with one another.


There is a connection between gravity and time. Relativity predicts that gravity dilates time, stretches it. Experiments confirm that clocks tick slower nearer to the earth’s core than high above it. To stand and shoulder burdens is thus to be in a place of swollen time, expansive time,


This dress is my mother’s. This painter is a friend of my father. The dress I know. Recalling an ancient and mysterious happiness,


Tonight he will sleep. At the end of it he returns to this final awareness, that he inhabits this life, this body—two arms, two eyes, legs on which to stand, a name.

The Fountain

She dislikes it, what she has done. She felt as much before his arrival, but now his insincere praise has doomed the moment, holding her here. To fold the easel now would be as though to flee him, or he would take it that way.


“The life of a man includes 17 days of pure happiness,” my aunt sometimes told me. “The number of days for a woman is unknown.” As we would walk on Sundays through that park along the riverbank, I would look for the men seeming to have found that happiness.