Outside

That unfamiliar knowledge of what it means to be whole, when the world caved in and nothing we could tell was left in place or organized. Then there, at the places where our hearts untangle and we feed our noble occupations with dreams of afterlives, of hobbled and steely imperfections that make their way to platforms of hardened hope unfurled and waving, beckoning to another settled thought and an other fetid, taut misadventure: nothing can make us immortal or even deign to take part in our gr...