And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends stolen out of Holy Writ,
And seem a saint -- when most I play the devil.
This is the nuisance of loving the incapable,
the broken record, the distance from
loss to leaving — I still don’t know
how to speak of your presence in a way
that is not reductive
long jump by mari-mi on Flickr.
I think I have neglected to share with my few followers the most pervasive passion of my life a most grievous oversight...