Here’s what I’m thinking now at the end of the world: If knowledge is power, and power corrupts, then why did I bother reading you, Cicero? Besides, the tortoise will get us all hare or no hair. Does it matter that I don’t love you? Would it matter if I did? There’s a poetry reading […]
All of my getting-me-to-here years, plus the place in which those years went by, have left no trace upon your memory. You even casually mused recently how we would ferry your ashes one day to England where, you said, Dad lay alone in a cemetery plot for two. As if a man who had never
The End, Beginning Read More »