williams-time

September 20, 2024

Our ferry’s crossing seemed to be taking longer than usual. From what we could remember of previous crossings, this seemed longer to us. Otherwise, matters proceeded in their usual fashion and things appeared to be the same, with none of us entertaining the notion that we hadn’t wanted to come.

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Thought:

“April snow. / God is waiting in the garden. / Slow as a blush,

snow shifts and settles on God. / On God’s bouquet. / The trees are white nerve nets.”

Anne Carson | “God’s Bouquet Of Undying Love”

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