How to read a tome of Collected Poems? Read one that pivotally changes you and lose track of the page and title. How to clean a house? Lose your ring in it. Milosz not having to make peace one day because the people are dead, nor revisit some cities of his blood, because they are razed. I’m still reading for that one. If I wince that I got cuppy, said too much, maybe years ago, sometimes the sudden knowledge that my auditor is no longer will come in as wistful relief, if with grief. So I’d like to find it. This “how” isn’t an engineering question, but angle, here alchemically translated to hope by way of loss. Copyright © 2016 Jennifer Michael Hecht. Used with permission of the author. |
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