All night I rose and fell, as if in water,
grappling with a luminous doom. By morning
I had vanished at least a dozen times
into something better.
The Spring is here. It’s time to dust off the Mary Oliver poetry, RIP :(, The Sound And The Fury, The Hotelier’s Goodness, The Sidekick’s Happiness Hours, Gaslight Anthem’s American Slang, and free agency is now kind of sort of over. Teams are waiting until the NFL Draft, while the rest of us sit in in the flowers, bronze in the sun, and split our hearts open.