In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

The river combs out our anger our tenderness. Our silent tenderness not my or mine or yours. Your unspeaking mouth shining. Shining lifesnake drinking at my lips milky with life. The One You Wanted to Be Is the One You Are She saying, You don’t have to do anything, you don’t even have to be, you Only who are, you nobody from nowhere, without one sin or one good quality, without one book, without one word, without even a comb, you! The one you wanted to be is the one you are. Come play . . . And he saying, Look at me! I don’t know how . . . Their breath like a tree’s breath. Their silence like a deer’s silence. Tolstoy wrote about this: all misunderstanding. Ironwood November 17th Dear Michael, I had gotten Ironwood, The Final Issue, in the mail; I put it on the table, and lay down to sleep, and dreamed I was talking to you. You said, “You’re much younger than my mother, of course, but you look 188 door in the mountain ...

Share