There is no space wider than that of grief, there is no universe like that which bleeds...

The time is difficult.
Wait for me.
We will live it out vividly.
Give me your small hand:
we will rise and suffer,
we will feel, we will rejoice.

We are once more the pair who
lived in bristling places,
in harsh nests in the rock.
This time is difficult.
Wait for me with a basket,
with a shovel,
with your shoes and your clothes.

Now we need each other,
not only for the carnations'sake,
not only to look for honey---
we need our hands
to wash with,
to make fire.
So let our difficult time
stand up to infinity
with four hands and four eyes...

The minute they're not looking.
I leave for...