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Christianity and Literature 502 Long Sentence The lost time of his life, a street fifteen years long, but at least going somewhere, crisscrossing south, north, back again and then at last, to Mississippi. One long list of states, the street Faulkner’s Joe Christmas wandered. Those fifteen years in one sentence, midpoint in the novel, lust mentioned, but just one sentence, no room for lust’s details. The words’ luster dazzles, propels me forward though not as I’ve lived my one long sentence of grief, fifteen years and then some. Oh, I should not have said sentence. One word’s more like it: listless. Everlastingly so. I’m still at a loss to say where in grief I am. Ministering so long to my lost, late love, crisscrossing north, south and back, I’m with him. I’m without. I meander in place. Moira Linehan ...


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